Missing Pieces
by weezer42
Summary: A year after Vincent is ripped from her, Catherine tries to move on, but a case throws everything up in the air. Post S1 finale.
1. Chapter 1

7/6/2013

**Title:** Missing Pieces

**Author**: Squeezynz

**Rating:** PG – R (for some chapters – lots of naughty bits in those)

**Fandom:** Beauty and the Beast (CW)2012

**Pairing**: Vincat

**Spoilers**: S1

**Summary:** A year after Vincent is ripped from her, Catherine tries to move on, but a case throws everything up in the air. Post S1 finale.

**Authors note:** This is a sequel to the S.1 finale (of course), but a complete departure from my previous story. I do try not to repeat myself.

**Disclaimer:** Any and all spelling, grammar, grammatical and punctuation mistakes are entirely my own. Feel free to correct me, but don't hold you breath that I'll action the corrections (unless they are truly horrendous). You should also know that I am a Brit, so any incorrect usage, unwanted 'u's or misplaced 's's are all my own fault, also any mangling of the American language, jargon and slang or incorrect naming of objects/items or places can also be blamed on me being a Brit. That said, I have done my research. If you know any of those places mentioned intimately and I've got something laughably wrong, put it down to artistic license. Any and all characters are entirely fictional and not based on anyone I know or exist outside the fandom. Any and all mistakes can and will be blamed on my being a Brit- in New Zealand - not in the states. Live with it. Otherwise, enjoy my continuing adventures of Vincat served up with a dash of excitement, a dollop of Beastliness, a collection of plot devices and plot twists and a whole lot of romance. It's what I do best.

One final note: FF...net...sucks arse and dropped out all my formatting with my last story, so this time I will use letters to indicate breaks and transitions. Just letting you know.

**Now on with the show...**

Somewhere in New York City.

Catherine Chandler crouched low and aimed her gun at the doorway. The alley was shrouded in shadow, her eyes straining to keep watch on all the windows and potential corners that could hide a felon, her sixth sense nagging at her that something was indeed lurking, waiting to pounce.

A single bulb in a dented light shade above the door provided some illumination, but beyond its weak circle of light it was black as pitch. Somewhere in the building behind the door was her partner, driving their quarry to try and escape out the back door where Catherine waited to bag him.

With her black leather coat, black sweater and black jeans, she blended seamlessly into the darkness, a collection of zip ties ready at her belt to secure and subdue her target.

Suddenly the door burst open and a man ran through, casting a look behind him at whoever was pursuing him. He had a gun in his hand and Catherine didn't hesitate, standing up from her hiding place and shooting the Taser, hitting her target squarely. The man jumped in surprise then fell to the ground, writhing and twitching, the gun discarded as his muscles contracted violently. Catherine quickly flipped him over and immobilised him with the zip ties, binding him hand and foot. Just as efficiently she unhooked the Taser barbs, the man yelping when she did.

"Nice shooting. Score another one for the girls!" Her partner appeared in the doorway, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Catherine held up her hand and they high five'd.

"Bring the car around will you? I don't want to have to carry this prick any further than I have to."

Her partner nodded and took off, jogging along the alleyway before disappearing around a corner.

The captive as her feet still twitched and jerked, his nervous system still reacting to the voltage sent coursing through his body.

"Fuckin' bitch, fuckin' fuckin'...aagh, I'm gonna kill you, mutherfuckinshitbitch."

Catherine had heard it all before and turned her back, winding up the wires of the expended Taser cartridge and slotting a new on in its place before re-holstering her weapon. It wasn't her weapon of choice, but it got the job done without a lot of blood and hospital visits.

The lights of a car approached down the alley, her partner returning to collect their fugitive.

She pulled right up to the man laying on the ground, the lights shining directly into his eyes. That provoked another round of colourful swearing.

"You just have to do that?" Catherine said, reaching the driver's window and leaning in.

"What? At least we can see what we're doing now."

Together the two women hoisted the man between them and carried him to the back seat, bundling him in where he lay still mouthing obscenities despite being trussed like a turkey.

A bullet proof glass window separated the front seat from the back of the car, Catherine sliding the window shut and locking it to muffle the man's ongoing tirade.

"You know, Cat, this makes fifty five crims found and delivered, and not one fatality."

"I like to keep things simple."Catherine replied, her eyes staring straight ahead as the car tooled out of the alley and headed for their base.

Catherine logged her Taser and filled in the paperwork for the fugitive handed into police custody, before heading for the locker room and a well earned shower. Working for a private security company that specialised in finding and returning bail jumpers, escaped convicts, fugitives and other low-lifes had its perks. The hours were better, the pay was certainly better and she hadn't had to shoot anyone in months. The only downside was not working with and seeing her best friend, Detective Tess Vargas, every day as she had done since they graduated together from Police academy. Now she was no longer an officer of the law, but still chasing down the bad guys, as well as having access to resources that even the police couldn't tap in to.

Having washed away the grime accumulated with bagging bad guys in dingy alleys, Catherine donned her day attire, which looked remarkably similar to her work clothes, and tied her hair back from her face. Black suited her mood, the long black leather coat giving her some much needed bulk on her slender, almost fragile frame. Anyone who associated her size with weakness was usually put right within a few seconds of trying to get past her, her daily workouts keeping her fit and capable of taking on anyone foolish enough to try. She carried a knife in her steel-capped boots and a hand-held Taser in her coat pocket as well as a can of pepper spray, rape whistle and another knife in her bag when she carried one. No one was going to take Catherine Chandler by surprise or have the opportunity to carry her off without a fight. Some might call her paranoid, but she preferred the term prepared.

She rode the subway to her neighbourhood, a different location to where she lived a year ago, then hailed a cab. That apartment had been sold, the proceeds enabling the purchase of the building she currently occupied and financed all the changes she'd needed to make. The cabby dropped her off and she walked the few feet to the front roller door of her customised home. The area was largely made up of workshops and small business tending towards the industrial rather than commercial. At night it was quiet once business was closed for the day. Unlocking the roller door she lifted it up and ducked inside, lowering it again and locking it behind her. She flipped on the lights and started up the steps that occupied the narrow entrance hallway. On the first floor she unlocked her front door and walked inside, careful to bolt it again before turning to face her living space. Her coat she left hanging on an old fashioned coat rack along with her scarf and beanie. The space was narrow but ran the full width of the building from front to back. A cantilevered stair that appeared suspended in space led up to the next level above the lounge and dinning, a kitchen off to the side. The wooden floors echoed to her boot falls as she walked over to the entertainment center and switched on the wall mounted television to catch the latest news. The place was sparsely furnished but what was there was good quality, though not fussy or opulent. The coffee table bore the scars of her boot heels where she sat with her feet up and watched the screen-in-screen display most nights. There was little of softness in the apartment, the style more grunge industrial than New York chic.

After a rummage in the fridge for something to eat and drink, Catherine pressed the button on her answer machine and listened to the messages. Her security system blinked for her attention and she listened with half an ear to the messages while she checked the code displayed on the system panel. Some one had tried to break into her bedroom again, the toughened glass probably broken, but they hadn't managed to get any further than some token vandalism. The mesh screens on her windows were proof against any intruders not carrying a gas axe. And even then they'd have to haul the tanks up three flights of narrow fire escape to make the attempt. Given how spartan her bedroom was it hardly seemed likely that anyone other than an opportunist would bother to try. If someone looked in the window they'd see nothing worth stealing. There were no lap tops visible, not even a PC on show, the television was big but it wasn't a recent model and hidden in a recess. There were no obvious personal effects for anyone to covet, they were all behind locked cupboard doors or in storage.

Catherine decided to investigate the window later. The voice of her former partner, Tess, was telling her something and she paused in her preparation of some vegetables to listen. Whatever it was, it could wait until she'd eaten. With the vegetables cooking she opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a generous glassful, carrying it over to the couch and thumbing the remote to take the television off mute.

After washing up the few dishes she returned to the answer-phone and ran the messages again. Tess's voice came on and she turned up the volume.

"Cat, it's Tess. I know we have a date for this Wednesday, but I need you to come to Bellevue. I have a case I think you'll want to look into. Call me."

Picking up her smart-phone she checked her messages, several of them from Tess, all of them about some mysterious case she just had to check out, but with little information to go on.

To find out what it was all about she would simple have to go and see for herself.

She met Tess in the foyer of the Bellevue, the soaring glass walls spilling bright sunshine on to the floor as they approached the bank of elevators to reach the upper levels.

"So what is this all about?" Catherine asked, her eyes never still as she searched the faces of the people milling around the huge expanse.

"Can you relax?" Tess chided. "There aren't any bad guys here."

They entered the lift and Tess pushed the button. Catherine leant back against the metal rail and watched the numbers. "So you're going to keep this a deep, dark secret until the last moment, huh?"

Tess shrugged. "Believe me, it's better this way. I don't want you to get all excited only to have your hopes dashed...again."

Catherine instantly stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing. It's probably nothing, but I have a buddy in the special victims unit who passed the information on to me, knowing I might have an interest in the case."

"Special Victims? What aren't you telling me?"

The lift chimed and the doors opened. They stepped out and Catherine baulked, seeing the signs pointing to different departments.

"Mental health ward?" she queried, casting Tess an incredulous look.

"Don't get your panties in a knot. He was picked up off the street, the victim of a hit and run the officer's think. He's in a pretty bad way. He might not even last the night, but I thought you should see for yourself."

Catherine stopped walking and stood in the middle of the corridor. "You think it's Vincent."

Tess stopped and turned to face her. "I don't know, but there are some things about this that don't add up, and also he seems to fit our description."

Catherine closed her eyes for a moment, a pounding starting somewhere at the back of her skull.

"The last one fit our description as well, and he wasn't even close."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Tess shrugged and looked apologetic. "The boys at the ninth are idiots and couldn't describe their own mothers accurately"

"And what makes this one any different?" Catherine asked, her arms folded over her chest defensively.

"No fingerprints." Tess replied tersely.

Catherine nodded and they started walking again, Tess flashing her badge when they reached a secure ward, the doors hissing open and closing with a dull finality behind them. The nurse had directed them to a room and they knocked before entering. Inside a nurse was checking the machinery hooked up to a male laying quiet and still in the bed. Apart from the beep of the heart and blood pressure monitor, the room was silent.

Tess showed her badge to the nurse who paused to offered a comment before leaving them alone.

"He looks a bit better now he's clean and shaved. Wouldn't have recognised my own father if he'd turned up looking like this one did. The clothes were positively alive." The nurse shuddered and left the room, the door swinging shut behind her.

The man lay perfectly still, only the regular rise and fall of his chest indicated any sign of life. His face was turned away from the door, a mop of over long, ragged hair hiding his profile. Tess approached the bed and picked up one of the man's lax hands, turning it over to inspect the finger tips. Sure enough the skin was quite smooth and without any whorls or lines to give him an identity. Catherine slowly walked around the end of the bed, noting the track lines on the inside of the man's arm, his general height and shape right, but he was too lean, too angular to be familiar. She approached the head of the bed, her feet dragging. She was looking at his left profile, so no scar to prove one way or the other. She reached out a hand to brush away his hair and see his face, her fingers trembling as she gently pushed the hank of hair away. Even before she could get a good look at his face the man clamped a steel hand around her wrist and stopped her. In the same moment he shot upright in bed, the sheet falling away from his naked chest to puddle at his waist, his other hand shooting out and grabbing Catherine by the throat and pulling her forward so that her face was now inches from his.

"Let her go!" Tess had her gun out and pointing it at the man, her eyes widening as the man suddenly bridged the gap between himself and Catherine's startled face and kissed her full on the lips. Catherine didn't react for a second, taken completely by surprise, but then whatever strength the man had drained away, and she was able to break his hold easily. He fell back on the pillows, his lips peeling back from his teeth as a laugh issued from his mouth, his eye wild and flicking from side to side. Catherine backed away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The man suddenly turned his head away from her exposing the right hand side of his face, the livid scar an unmistakable mark identifying exactly who he was.

Catherine backed away from the bed, her expression shocked, shaking her head in denial. The man was once more quiet, his hands laying palm upwards on the bed covers, his eyes closed, just as before. Now his face was in full view and there was no denying his true identity. It shouted at her and mocked her, daring her to accept that this wreck of a man was the one she professed to love above all other, who was snatched away from her a year ago, the same man she had been trying to get over and put in her past.

Fat chance of that happening now.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Tess had gone home hours ago, but Catherine simply couldn't leave. She flipped through the slim folder that contained what facts were known about the man in room fifteen. It was precious little.

He had been found by a member of the public in an alley around third and east twenty fourth street who reported it to the local precinct. It was supposed he was a vagrant that had either been hit by a vehicle while sleeping in the street, probably drunk, or been robbed by locals and left for dead.

He had no identification on him, no labels on his filthy clothes or fingerprints. They hadn't run facial recognition, preferring to wait for him to wake and tell them who he was. His physical condition was not much better. He was malnourished, suffering from lice and fleas, had contusions and bruising consistent with either a hit and run or being kicked and punched repeatedly. There were also old bruises, grazes and numerous scars over his entire body, including a surgical scar on his abdomen, the most prominent being the one on his face plus, not only was he missing his fingerprints but one or two teeth as well. Apart from the injuries old and new he had no other identifying marks like a tattoo or birthmark to help give him a name.

Catherine knew his name, knew pretty much all there was to know if she felt like being forthcoming. This man with his track lines and wasted frame was the man she'd given her heart to, who'd been snatched away from her, leaving her bereft with no way for her to follow or find him.

Scrubbing at the sudden moisture in her eyes, she flipped over another page and studied his blood work. Being familiar with the results she'd seen in Evans work two years ago she expected to see the same before her, but that wasn't the case. Wherever he had been, and whatever they had done to him, Vincent Keller was no longer carrying corrupted DNA in his blood. The results were what was expected for someone in his condition, high white cell count and slight anaemia Other than that he was one hundred percent normal. Something else the test showed that refuted the track lines. Vincent Keller had no identifiable drugs – legal or otherwise - or alcohol in his system. Catherine read and re-read the results to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

She hadn't.

Vincent Keller, former medical intern, dead soldier, secret experimental cross-species DNA recipient and decade long fugitive from Muirfield was a normal human male in his early thirties.

Lowering the folder she stared at the figure in the bed and tried to equate the bit and pieces with the man she thought she knew and used to love.

Who was she kidding? She had never stopped loving him, it had just become harder and harder to remember his face, remember his smile, his touch, his taste. She knew what he looked like, but she'd forgotten how he felt, how he smelled, the exact colour of his eyes, the way he held his mouth, the way the scar wrinkled when he smiled. Her dreams tormented her with snatches of information, the feel of his weight on her, the texture of his skin, fading memories of making love and waking up together. It had seemed so unforgettable and intense at the time she couldn't believe it when she started to forget, those images and memories fading and becoming as insubstantial as ghosts. They were supposed to be forever, branded into her to never fade away.

But that wasn't the reality. There was a vast difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Being in love was intoxicating, invigorating, there was nothing like it. Every day was new and exciting, the anticipation of seeing that person magnified with almost unbearable tension and longing. Each touch, each kiss was loaded with nuance and meaning, each look shared and savoured until the next time they came together.

All that had come to an end the night he was taken from her, the night his enemies stole him away never to be seen again, until now.

The man in the bed stirred and she got up out of the chair, leaving the folder behind before walking to the side of the bed, keeping out of his reach this time. As she watched, he seemed to be struggling to wake up, his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids, his head moving restlessly on the pillows. She wanted to touch him, sooth him but clenched her fist instead, holding her arm rigidly by her side. As before he lurched upright in bed, eyes wide open but staring into nothing. Catherine stepped back, the movement attracting his attention, his eyes swivelling to meet hers, an expression crossing his face of bewilderment and confusion. This time he didn't grab for her but reached a hand up to touch his own face, panic making him struggle to breath. He looked around the room, then down at himself and finally his gaze came back to hers.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"In Bellevue hospital." Catherine answered. "New York city." she added to clarify.

"New York?" Vincent asked, his brow creased as if he couldn't understand the words.

"Yeah. Do you know who you are? Do you know your name?" she asked, her tone neutral.

"My name?" he repeated, staring down at his hands, turning them over as if he'd never seen them before. "I don't...I can't...do I have a name?"

Catherine tried to calm her racing heart. "What's the last thing you remember?"

She could see he was trying to think, trying to find a memory to hang on to, but it was simply not there, Vincent shaking his head. "I don't know." He scrunched up his eyes. "I can't see anything."

Catherine raised her hand as if to comfort him but ruthlessly squashed the urge and lowered it again. "Don't push, they'll return in time. I can tell you, you do have a name. It's Vincent."

He looked at her with something akin to hope. "I have a name? You know me?"

Catherine reined in her emotions. "I used to know you, but I haven't seen you for over a year."

"Did I go somewhere?" he asked.

"You were taken away, but I don't know where you went."

"Who took me away?"

"An organisation called Muirfield." Catherine told him, hoping the name might jog something loose in his brain, but his reaction refuted this.

"I don't know that name. Did I work for them?"

Catherine sighed. "Not exactly. Look, don't worry, I'm sure your memory will return."

He looked up at her, panic obvious in his agitated movements. "What if it doesn't?"

He sounded so lost and unsure her resolve to keep her distance simply melted. Whatever had happened to him, he was at the mercy of his amnesia, not able to remember anything about himself or his recent history. Taking pity on him she approached the bed and perched on the edge. She decided to risk it and took hold of his hand, linking her cool fingers with his.

"Then you'll have to face that, if it happens. For now you need to rest and regain your strength as well as recover from your injuries. You're safe here." She felt tremors shake his fingers as he drew in a deep breath to calm his panic.

"I have a name, the rest will follow." He said it like a mantra, his other hand plucking at the covers.

Catherine disentangled their hands, needing to put some space between them both physically and mentally.

"I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow. Don't push too hard to remember stuff, it'll come back when it's ready." She made to go but he called her back.

"I don't know your name?"

She turned back and gave him a small, tight smile. "Catherine, my name is Catherine." She watched as his lips moved while he tried her name out silently for himself. Mentally dragging herself away she walked out without looking back, her face impassive.

Yes, she would be back tomorrow. Wild horses couldn't keep her away now.

She had time owing so her employer's HR department only put up a token protest at the short notice.


	2. Chapter 2

Tess was already at their favourite bar, a drink ready and waiting for her. She downed it in a single swig, banging it on the counter top to be refilled.

"Woah. Someone have a difficult day?"

"I stayed until Vincent woke up."

"Did he kiss you again?" Tess asked, keeping her voice neutral but unable to hide the glint of mischief in her eyes.

"No. And he didn't remember me at all." Catherine told her, downing the second shot as quickly as the first.

"Drowning your sorrows?"

"I have no sorrows to drown. I just need to relax."

Tess laughed. "A few more of those and you'll be completely boneless, not to mention legless as well."

"Good. I need to feel something." She hadn't meant to blurt that out, shutting her lips tight and not looking at Tess knowing she would react. She did.

"For God's sake, It wasn't your fault they took him. You tried your best to find him, but they were too clever, too devious. When are you going to give up this...this...whatever it is you're doing to yourself?" Tess asked, her brow creased in worry. "I hardly recognise you some days, you're all hard edges and emotionless expression. It's as if you've locked yourself away...it's not good for you and is toxic to any relationship."

Catherine looked as her best and only friend and raised an perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You're lecturing me about emotions?"

"Don't do this, Cat. I know you, remember? I know what this is about..."

Catherine rounded on her, her face filled with rage. "You know nothing of what I've been through, what I'm going through right now. Did you stand by and see the man you professed to love be taken away without firing a shot in his defence? Did you look into his eyes as your fingers parted for the last time and see nothing but a hopeless dread of what was to come?"

Tess leaned in, her brown eyes flooded with compassion. "There was nothing you could do."

"I was weak and useless. If it had been me in that net, Vincent would have moved heaven and earth to find me. He wouldn't' have given up, he wouldn't have forgotten everything." She stopped abruptly, biting her bottom lip as despair swamped her and threatened to crumble all her hard won defences. Downing the last shot she pushed away from the bar and started to leave. Tess snagged her arm as she passed, but Catherine was already rebuilding her walls and merely shrugged out of her friends grip.

"I'm sorry, Tess. But I have some stuff to do. We'll catch up on the weekend, okay?" She didn't wait for a reply but walked away, back ramrod straight and her black coat buttoned tight around her, hands jammed in the deep pockets to hide their trembling. Tess would forgive her, but it would be harder for her to forgive herself.

Tess watched her best friend leave the bar, ignoring everyone around her, looking straight ahead, untouchable.

Detective Vargas sighed and turned back to the bar, her second drink still waiting for her. Tess knew that the harder Catherine tried to hide her feelings the more they leaked past her carefully constructed walls. Vincent had done a real number on her heart, his abduction leaving her friend grieving and vulnerable. Months of fruitless searching and nights mourning his loss had scarred her, making her hide her feelings deep and build a hard shell about her heart, discarding everything that went before and creating a new persona that no one from her former life recognised or could get close too. Except Tess.

She was the only one that Catherine trusted enough to behave normally with, to maintain contact with, even her family saw less of her than Tess did. Despite the information recovered from the iPad and Tess recognising him as a supposed FBI agent, Thomas hadn't been able to fill in the blanks, his head injury too severe. That would have been bad enough, but combined with the shattering knowledge that Thomas Chandler wasn't her biological father tipped Catherine over the edge. Soon after, Heather had a blazing row with her sister, unable to understand her preoccupation with the flaky boyfriend when her father was dangerously ill in hospital. Catherine was already hurting and her sister's betrayal was a blow too many, her reaction to the crisis pushing her to distance herself and create a new life that bore no resemblance to what had gone before. Now a part of that excised life had returned to torment her. Vincent was back, but not as himself. Tess worried that her dearest friend was heading for a heartbreak that she might never recover from.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

They had switched on the television in his room but he hardly paid any attention to it. He was waiting for her, for Catherine to visit again. The doctors had been and given their prognosis and empty words of comfort, the usual rhetoric that give it time and his memory would return, that his couldn't force the memories back, that there was no sign of brain trauma or chemical amnesia blah, blah blah blah.

He had a name at least. Catherine had given him that. A name he didn't recognise but she obviously did. Vincent. It was old fashioned and uncommon, probably from Italian descent. He had the colouring to be Italian, but it didn't produce any memories and his accent, according the the nurse, was pure New York.

The name obviously meant something to Catherine, her whole face and posture had changed when she spoke it. He liked the way her eyes softened and her body leaned in when she first said it, the word carrying some sort of hold over her feelings. It was all he had to go on, but it was worth gold to someone who had only a name to cling to.

Catherine. He rolled it on his tongue, savoured it and repeated it in his head. It didn't spark any memories, but it did make him feel less alone. There was someone who knew who he was, and he had a name he could speak. That name was Catherine. He glanced over to the door again but it remained obstinately shut. He felt the first tendrils of panic snake into his gut, his heart tripping as he tried to calm himself. She would come, she said she would. It was early, maybe she had a job to do before she could get away to see him. What if she was being polite? What if she hadn't really meant it? He started to hyperventilate, his heart pounding, black spots crowding his vision as he struggled to breath. So caught up in his own private hell he didn't hear the door open, or see Catherine until she was right beside the bed, her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look up and meet her eyes, her voice talking him down from his panic, calming, soothing, his heart slowing, ceasing to knock against his ribs, easing him back to normal again.

"Vincent, it's okay, just breath."

He felt shaky and foolish, his eyes closing briefly, her hands cool and smooth against his face.

"I...thought you weren't coming," he whispered, his heart finally beating at a normal pace as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm here now, so there's nothing to worry about. Just breath. I'm here." Her voice washed over him like a wave of warmth, her eyes never leaving his, their soft expression easing him back from the edge of terror.

She removed her hands and he felt the loss, wishing she would keep touching him and banish the fear that had almost consumed him. Instead she pulled up a chair close to the bed and sat down. She looked different, less severe than the previous day, her hair loose about her face rather than pulled back in a tight pony tail as it had been.

"I like your hair," he said, instantly wishing the words back when her expression froze and the warmth died from her eyes. He tried again. "Thank you. I don't know what came over me, I just started to panic and I couldn't stop it."

"You just needed someone to distract you," she replied, sitting back in the chair and putting distance between them. Vincent leant back on his pillow but never took his eyes off her, drinking her in, her face, her hair, her clothes. They were different too, the coat shorter, the jeans blue instead of black, altogether a less intimidating ensemble that suited her better.

"Catherine?"

"Yes."

"Tell me who I am? You said you used to know me. Who was I? What did I do? What did I like?"

"Vincent, I'm not sure, this might be too soon for you."

He turned away and stared up at the ceiling tiles. "I need to have something other than my name to cling to. Please. Catherine?"

She bit her lip, he watched that small movement from the corner of his eye, a wave of heat rippling through him.

"Your name is Vincent Ryan Keller and you used to be in an army special forces unit in Afghanistan. Before that you were a first year resident in emergency medicine at Saint Benjamin's in two thousand and one. You joined up after nine eleven."

Vincent watched her mouth describe someone that he knew nothing about, his attention on her lips not on the words.  
"I'm a doctor?"

"You were a first year resident. You were in your emergency department rotation when the twin towers were hit."

"Why did I give it up to join the army?"

"You had lost two brother in the towers, they were fire-fighters, like your dad."

That gave him pause. He'd had a family, brothers. "Are my parents still alive?"

"Not your father. I don't know about your mother." She decided that he might as well know the worst. "And even if she is still alive you can't ever see her."

He looked up a her, confusion creasing his forehead. "Why?"

"Because to anyone that knew you back then, you are dead. You died in Afghanistan."

He stared at her as if she was mad. "Well, obviously I didn't, I'm here."

She smiled at him then and his world suddenly seemed brighter, more hopeful.

"I guess that's a given. The unit you were attached to, took part in trials for a new...drug."

His brain was whirling with all the information, most of it not really sinking in, but he'd do anything to keep her talking, keep her by his side. "What was this drug supposed to do?"

She looked down at her hands for a moment, as if she didn't really want to tell him.

"Catherine? What did it do?"

She looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes. Uncertainty.

"I've already given you so much to think about, I might save that for another day."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his side. He reached out and took her hand, stilling it's restless movements in her lap. "What did it do to me?"

She drew in a breath, steadying herself to tell him it all. Instead fate stepped in and the hospital psychiatrist chose that moment to enter the room, breaking the spell between them.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Catherine left the hospital almost at a run. What had she been thinking? She had told him almost everything, not even considering what he'd do with the information, or how he'd cope hearing his life laid out like an autopsy, bits and pieces lobbed like grenades to explode for maximum effect. Was she trying to hurt him? Blame him for leaving her? Was she insane?

She'd even given him his real name, for God's sake. And how on earth was she to go back knowing the first question he'd have was what did they do to him in Afghanistan?

Cursing under her breath she hailed a cab and gave it her home address. She almost threw the fare at the poor driver, flying out of the cab like she was propelled from a cannon. Once inside she raced up and the stairs and swore the stairway blue as she fumbled the lock to her front door. Only when she was inside, the door securely locked and the world once more held at bay did she let go the breath she seemed to have been holding for hours.

What had she been thinking?

Were her walls so flimsy that it only took one look from those hazel eyes with their ridiculously long lashes under coal black brows to melt her like snow in July? She groaned out loud and thumped her foot back against the inoffensive door, the jolt satisfyingly solid up her leg and giving her an excuse to vent all her frustration at herself in a session of physical expression.

An hour spent in her gym worked up a fine sweat and left her aching from the work out, but it did the trick. Catherine once more felt in control, felt centered and no longer at war with her heart and mind. She purposefully brought up a mental image of Vincent, stripped him down to his components then picked them apart to reduce the effect he had on her. His hair was too long, he needed a shave, she hated the hippy half shaved bad boy look, his eyes were too narrow, his lashes too long, his eyebrows in desperate need of a pluck, his chest too solid, shoulders too broad, he needed to put on more weight to fill out his arms, his face was too lean, his grip too weak.

Catherine stopped her internal dissection of Vincent. This wouldn't do, all she was thinking of was him, when what she needed to do was stop thinking about him altogether and put him back where he belonged – in her past.

Sliding down the wall she let her head fall forward onto her knees, her boxing gloves hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud. She was hopeless.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

It was like they were two celestial bodies orbiting each other, unable to break away and always coming closer with each slow pass. Catherine kept up an internal monologue to herself to remain impassive, not involved, a stranger helping out another stranger but that was blown to pieces when she entered the room and he smiled at her.

He smiled with his whole face, his eyes meeting hers with actual joy at seeing her. It was intoxicating, heady stuff. And he looked so darn cute wearing hospital scrubs because his own clothes had been sent to the incinerator.

"Hey." She valiantly made a last ditch attempt to hold on to her vanishing aplomb, fighting hard to not respond to that bone melting smile with a similar one of her own.

"Hey." Vincent replied, his whole body lighting up on seeing her in the doorway. He had been thinking of her every moment since she'd left when the shrink arrived. His mental image of her never did justice to the way she moved, the swing of her hair or the expression in her brandy coloured eyes.

"How did you get on with the shrink? Anything coming back?" She sat in the chair but not beside his bed, ignoring the look of disappointment that clouded his expression.

"Er no...nothing yet. I was wanting to ask you...about something you said yesterday."

Catherine fought to keep her expression neutral, disinterested, a stranger helping a stranger.

"I said a lot of things yesterday..."

"Yes. You did. If I'm supposed to be dead why hasn't that brought a bunch of fraud officers knocking on the door to ask me why I'm not dead?"

"Because you are still a John Doe, as far as anyone else is aware. You have no fingerprints, so no identification. Apart from two other people, I'm the only one that knows who you are and why you're alive, when you shouldn't be."

"Uhuh. So what's the big mystery? Am I some weird undead person? Did I go undercover and somehow everyone forgot about me?"

Catherine shook her head. "It's not like that. Look, I can't tell you all of it because you'll think I'm crazy. Just accept that you were mixed up in something that was under the radar, and because of that you had to be written off as dead to the rest of the world."

Vincent frowned, his frustration obvious. "But where have I been for the last twelve years, what have I been doing?"

Catherine rubbed her forehead. She'd opened this can of worms so she'd better empty it all out.

"Look. If this sounds insane then don't blame me. I'm not the one that tried to play God. That was Muirfield."

"The company I worked for?"

"You didn't exactly work for them, they had a military contract with a license to experiment on volunteers. You were part of a unit that was made up of soldiers that put their names forward to be guinea pigs for Muirfield, only you really had no idea what you were getting into, or how it would turn out. From what you've told me you all thought you were getting some sort of super vitamin shot that would boost your energy, enhance your ability to heal and generally make you some sort of super soldier."

Vincent could help himself. He laughed. Catherine had looked so serious, as if she was imparting the secrets of the universe, instead she was making up some sort of joke at his expense. He decided to humour her.

"You mean like Captain America?"

Catherine closed her eyes for a moment. "No. More like the incredible hulk."

That wiped the smile off his face. "What exactly was in those shots?"

This was it, the moment she committed herself. She drew back instead. "What did you tell the shrink?"

Vincent looked taken aback. "Nothing. He talked mostly about what I could expect, what to do and what not to do, that sort of thing. The amnesiacs guide to not going crazy."

Catherine nodded. "And when are they going to discharge you?"

Vincent was thoroughly confused now. "I don't know, probably when someone pays the bill." He plucked at the scrubs "Obviously not me as I don't appear to have anything, not even clothes to my name."

Catherine nodded again. "Look, I'm going to suggest something, but don't take it the wrong way." She sucked in a breath as if to give her courage. "I want you to come back to my place."

If she said she was going to jump out the window and she wanted him to follow he couldn't have been more surprised. "I see."

Catherine flashed a mirthless smile. "You probably don't. I have a spare room you can use until you decide what you're going to do."

"Do?" Vincent echoed.

"In the future."

"Uhuh." He paused, completely confused but also strangely calm. He was going to live with this complicated, conflicted, deeply disturbing woman, and he hadn't even had to lay any lines on her.

She was offering to house someone she hadn't seen in over a year, someone she apparently knew a great deal about but was hiding some part of his life. Why?

"Okay." He noticed her shoulder relax. Maybe this was as big a deal for her as it was for him. He looked down at himself. "I don't suppose I can beg some clothes to go along with the room? Just until I sort out my finances." Vincent frowned. "Always supposing I have any."

Catherine gave him a tight smile. "I'll bring something in tomorrow. I'd better go now and see about getting you discharged into my care." She got up to leave but he snagged her hand, anchoring her beside him.

"Thank you, Catherine." His deep, husky voice was almost the last straw. If he smiled at her again she was quite possibly going to do something rash. Possibly even more so than she'd already been in offering him her spare room.

"I..er..I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow. Um...get better." She snatched her hand back and walked out, leaving Vincent to ponder on the vagaries of one particular female psyche.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, physically, he's good to go, but mentally?" the doctor shook his head, looking at the notes left by the ward psychiatrist. "That's a whole nuther ball game." He looked up at the woman wanting to take his patient home with her. "You say you know this person, but apart from his first name there's nothing here in his notes. He was brought in here as a victim of an attack, but for all intents and purposes he was a vagrant living on the streets. Do you know him well enough to risk him living with you? I can hardly recommend this course of action as anything other than foolhardy in the extreme."

Catherine smiled patiently. "I do know him but there are circumstances in his life that are not mine to share. With anyone. I know what I'm doing and I appreciate your concern. Is there any reason why he can't be discharged into my care?"

The doctor sighed and flipped the case file shut. "No reason other than the fact he remembers nothing about this life you can't share. He could have flashbacks, violent episodes, disturbing memory recall, any number of issues that you can't anticipate. Are you really sure about this?"

Catherine nodded. "Thank you, doctor, I am sure. I'll return tomorrow with some clothes. Can the paperwork be ready by then?"

"Certainly, miss Chandler. You can collect him at ten. I'll give him a final physical, then he's all yours. You can settle his account at reception."

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Tess was equally sceptical She called while Catherine was sorting through one of her storage closets in her apartment.

"Cat, are you crazy? You don't know what they did to him, or how it has affected him. He's all but a stranger and you're taking him into your home?"

"I know what I'm doing, Tess. Trust me."

"You have no idea what you could be letting yourself in for. What is he has an episode?"

She could hear the worry in her friends voice.

"Tess, I can't just walk away. And anyway, it's not like he can become a beast any more, that's all over now."

"So you think, but you don't know. He could be suffering from post traumatic or something like that, a time bomb waiting to explode!"

Catherine rolled her eyes even though Tess couldn't see her.

"I am more than capable of handling the man. He's half starved and a shadow of the what he was."

Tess snorted loudly. "Even on a bad day...argh there's no talking to you." she heard Tess draw in a steadying breath. "Look, if you need me give me a call."

Catherine smiled, adding warmth to her reply. "Thank you, Tess. I'll call you and let you know how it's going, okay?"

"Sure." Tess sounded disgruntled but Catherine knew better.

"Talk you to soon."

Catherine ended the call and tucked the phone back in her pocket. She dug a little deeper in to the cupboard and found the plain sports bag she'd been looking for.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Vincent looked up as the door opened, his face lighting up to see Catherine carrying a sports bag.

"That for me?" he asked, a wide grin stretching his lips.

Catherine dumped the bag on the end of the bed. "You'll find all you need in here. I'll wait outside while you get dressed."

Vincent pulled the bag over toward him. "You don't have to go, there's a bathroom, I can get changed in there."

"Okay." Catherine pulled the chair out of his way and sat down. She tried to feign indifference, pulling out her phone as if to check for messages. While she play acted, Vincent got out of bed, the scrubs riding up to expose his lower back and stomach, Catherine wincing in sympathy seeing the pattern of bruising marring his skin. His hipbones were too prominent, attesting to the fact that he'd not eaten well in a long time.

Vincent picked up the bag and walked slowly to the bathroom, glancing back at Catherine who seemed engrossed in her phone before going inside and shutting the door.

When he emerged it was in the clothes she'd brought, clothes that had once belonged to him. Jeans, singlet, grampa-tee, boots, all things he'd left behind at her apartment piece by piece in the few weeks they'd had together as lovers. She's bought new underwear and socks, but the rest was his own. Now they hung on his lean frame as if hand me downs from a big brother. Vincent didn't see to notice or care.

"Thanks, you have no idea how nice it is to be wearing ordinary clothes again. They put way too much starch in those scrubs." He carried the sports bag and jacket to the bed.

Catherine looked up from her phone. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Vincent shrugged into the jacket and turned to go.

"I just had to stop at reception to pick up your papers and we're good to go." She brushed past him, leading the way. Vincent inhaled as she passed, drawing her perfume into his lungs. It was exotic and sweet, just like the woman wearing it.

The stopped briefly at the nurses station to collect his discharge papers, the nurse looking disapproving, but not commenting on his early release. The younger nurse looked up and waved to him. "Good luck, Vincent." she called. Vincent grinned and waved back.

Catherine tried to ignore the spurt of something that felt remarkably like jealousy, which was plain ridiculous. She was just being charitable and giving a friend, an acquaintance, a virtual stranger a helping hand. She had no reason to feel territorial. Without looking to see if he followed she led the way out of the hospital and headed for one of the many cabs looking for fares outside the glass doors.

Vincent remained silent throughout the ride out of the city and into the light industrial district where Catherine had her fortified apartment. If he was surprised at her choice of neighbourhood to live in, he didn't comment, just got out when she did and waited on the side-walk while she paid the cab fare.

Catherine darted him a glance, trying to read his expression. She tried to see it through his eyes, the workshops and businesses, the traffic and few pedestrians. It was quite different from the almost frenetic pace of the inner city, one of the reasons she'd chosen to live here. Unlocking the roller door she gestured him inside, going through her usual routine of locking it securely behind her before starting up the stairs. Vincent kept his opinions to himself, but he took it all in, the narrow building not at all what he expected a women like Catherine to be living in. AT her front door he watched her undo the bolts and followed her in, his eye widening as he took in the height, depth and spaciousness of the apartment as well as it's unusual design. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, the ones at the back extending over height and looking out over a back alley wide enough to accommodate a surprising number of trees growing between the functional buildings. Opposite the buildings looked like warehouses with blank, windowless end walls and more roller doors, meaning no nosy neighbours to look in.

Catherine was taking off her coat and hanging it on an old fashioned coat stand, before approaching where he stood, still bag in hand. She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and stood looking at the view.  
"It's surprisingly peaceful here, once the businesses shut for the night."

He turned to look down at her, seeing her pensive expression and wondering why she felt the need to bury herself in such an isolated place.

"I'll take your word on that. You said you had a spare room?"

She led him up the stairs to the next floor, past a door the pushed open the next. "I hope you'll be comfortable."

He walked in while she stood by the door. The room was stark in its simplicity, almost austere. There was a bed, a night-stand and a built in cupboard. The double bed was made up with a plain, silvery grey cover and matching pillow cases, a grey throw at the end of the bed. The windows had silver gauze curtains that were over long and draped over the floor. The glass was covered by a fine mesh security screen and looked out over the tree dotted alley way. They were higher up here and able to look over the top of the warehouses to a more distant vista, the skyscrapers dominating the view in any direction. Vincent dropped his bag on the end of the bed and sat down on the side.

Catherine stood in the doorway, watching him.

"Cosy." Was all Vincent said. Catherine blushed at the implied criticism.

"I'll show you the bathroom." She turned to go but found that Vincent was at her side, his hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry. You've been nothing but kindness. The bedroom is great." He let her arm go when Catherine looked down at his hand.

"I'd appreciate you cleaning up after yourself in the bathroom. I got you some personal items and a new toothbrush." She walked ahead of him and opened the door, letting him walk in first. "You can have the sink on the right, I've cleared a shelf for you in the cabinet. The cupboard has a stack of towels, and there is a laundry chute in the wall there." The opposite wall was covered in mirror tiles that reflected their images back on them, Vincent meeting her eye in the reflection.

"Thank you, you've been more than generous." He offered in way of apology.  
"Try to remember to put the seat down." Was her abrupt rejection of the apology.

Turning her back she left him standing there. Already she felt an oppressive sense of claustrophobia, the rooms that normally felt so spacious and airy seeming to close in and crowd her.

Making her way back downstairs she resolved to shake off her uneasiness and pour herself a drink. It was early, but she felt she needed something to settle her nerves.

The old Vincent had never seen this place, and the new Vincent didn't remember her old apartment, making this whole scene somehow stranger than it should be. It was as if she was trying to prove something to him, but that was silly and unnecessary He didn't remember her, or their relationship, so what was there to prove? So what if he didn't like her place, she didn't create if with him in mind, so why worry if he liked it or not. It suited her, it was her. Catherine Chandler, ex detective, abandoned lover, a woman looking to expunge her past, stark, sterile and impersonal. There were no memories here, nothing to remind her.

Until now. Now the reason for all that cathartic expunging was up in her spare room, right next door to her room. Almost within touching distance.

Catherine took a deep mouthful of the wine, the flavour sharp and almost astringent in her mouth. The burst of blackberry, woody flavour overwhelmed her and she swallowed, letting it burn down her throat and warm her belly.

Feeling her world tilt a little askew, she refilled the glass and padded across to the door leading to her gym, feeling in need of a work out. After changing into something suitable and donning the gloves, she started a routine that involved several disciplines – kick boxing and bag time mixed in with some martial arts and weights to finish. So absorbed in her work out she didn't notice when Vincent slipped in to watch, his eyes noting the play of muscles under her skin, the determination on her face, the preoccupation and focus on each exercise. Here was a woman driven by something that she kept a bay by never stopping long enough to allow it to catch up. Only when she was dripping and exhausted did she stop and flop on to the mat, laying back on the squabs to catch her breath. When Vincent spoke she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Do you always work yourself to the point of exhaustion?"

Catherine tried to ignore the way her tank top clung to her front and back, sweat soaking her hair and running down her face.

"Don't you ever knock?" she asked, stripping off the bandaging around her knuckles.

"I did." Vincent replied, watching her every move.

"I need a shower, then I'll see about something for us to eat. Are you hungry?" She tried to sound nonchalant, as if having an ex lover who didn't remember her stand watching her work out was an everyday occurrence

"I seem to be permanently hungry." He growled quietly, his eyes roaming over her flushed face and down to her rapidly moving chest as she tried to catch her breath.

Catherine lifted her chin and aimed for casual indifference, padding across the mats to where he stood, blocking her way out of the room

"You're welcome to use any of the equipment when I'm not in here, but try not to push yourself too hard. You've lost a lot of your condition and you need to start slow and build it up again."

Vincent smiled crookedly at her. "I'll be lucky to lift those weight off the ground, let alone do anything with them. I think they stole all my strength when they burned my clothes." he teased, willing her to smile, to unbend and show him her softer side.

"We'll talk while we eat, there are things you need to know about your former life that I couldn't tell you in the hospital."

"Okay."

"I'll meet you in the kitchen in ten."

He watched her run up the stairs to take a shower, letting out a sigh that his attempts to lighten her mood had failed. She had rebuilt her emotional walls with double strength cement and would take more than his lame jokes to crack it.

Catherine stood on one side of the kitchen bench while Vincent sat on a stool on the other. She had an impressive array of salad vegetables laid out in front of her and she was putting together a mixed salad to accompany the smoked salmon and brie with tomato and garlic bruschetta. She was acutely conscious of Vincent watching her every move, his eyes often meeting her always with a smile in them.

"Here, carry this to the table please and I'll bring the plates."

He did as she asked, the table near the wall of glass but not visible to anyone on the ground.

Catherine fussed with her plate and took another sip of her wine, her third glass so far that day. Vincent had water.

They ate for a few minutes then Vincent looked up and caught her watching him.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, giving her a crooked smile.

"I need to tell you things that are going to sound crazy and paranoid, but it's the truth."

"So you mentioned in the hospital. You likened me to the Hulk."

"Yes, well it would have been closer to the truth to liken you to a werewolf." Catherine told him bluntly. She carried on without pause. "Those experiments you were a part of in the special forces were designed to create a cross-species chimera that could, at will, transform into some sort of super human with incredible strength and heightened senses." Now she paused, to watch his reaction.

Vincent was staring at her wide eyed, his mouth working but nothing coming out. She decided to carry on.

"There were side effects. Most of the men in your unit couldn't control or handle the transformation, and became uncontrollably violent. For some reason you were better able to make the transition, remaining outwardly human, but if enraged or threatened the animal side emerged and you became a beast...with claws."

Vincent sat back in his chair and lifted his hands to stare at them. "Claws?"

Catherine nodded. "You also had incredible hearing, enhanced eyesight and infra-red vision later on. You also were able to manage your transformation, to call on it at will, and revert back at will as well."

His meal forgotten, Vincent just sat there and stared at her. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's a lot to take in, but you needed to know."

"So, at any moment, if I get angry I could turn into this...beast?"

Catherine shook her head. "I don't know. Something else you need to know, a year ago you were taken, grabbed by Muirfield and taken somewhere, I don't know where. I always assumed it was Muirfield but even that is unsubstantiated Whoever took you, and returned you, they've changed you blood. I checked the blood test results and the markers that were there before are not there now. I don't know if you can transform or not, but you don't have the same blood-work, and you have no fingerprints."

Vincent lifted his hand to stare again at his fingers. "I wondered about that. The doctor said they could have been burnt off accidentally or I got to close to some sort of chemical."

Catherine shook her head. "All the agents of Muirfield that I've come across had the same thing, no fingerprints."

"Shit." Vincent lowered his hands and looked up at her across the table. "How will I know?"

Catherine downed her wine. "How will you know what?"

"If I'm going to change into the wolfman?"

Catherine shrugged, the wine finally working and slowing her reactions. "I don't know...get angry. Your eyes were always a tell-tale, they would glow this beautiful gold when you were in the throws..." she brought herself up short. What the hell had she been about to tell him?

"Um...when your adrenaline was up, you'd start to change, but sometimes you just let it go a little to help boost your...er...enhancements."

Vincent pushed back from the table his appetite gone. "I'm sorry, you were right, this does sound crazy. No offence, but I think I'll just go up to my room and rest."

Catherine waved her near empty glass at him before plonking her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hands. "Fine. Sweet dreams."

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Vincent lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, like everything else it was higher than your average room, all exposed concrete beams carrying on the over all theme of industrial grunge. He had his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at the ankles, his boots discarded on the floor. He was trying to absorb the incredible story Catherine had related, of weird experiments, beast men and super soldiers. It was all too fantastic to believe. Except that Catherine believed it wholeheartedly, and she didn't come across as a nutter, at least not any worse than some and marginally better than others.

If she wasn't crazy, then it was possible that all she said was in fact true and he had been this half human beastman thing, with claws and glowing eyes, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. He smiled to himself, he was pretty sure he wasn't wearing a super suit under his jeans. And that was another thing. He hadn't made a point of mentioning it, but how did she just happen to have a bag of clothes that were obviously well washed and worn, that fitted him exactly, even down to the boot size? Granted he needed to fill out some to fit them snugly, but for all intents and purposes they were his clothes, and there was usually only one reason why a woman held on to a man's clothes long after he'd disappeared off the scene. Sure, she had admitted to knowing him, in fact knowing a great deal about him, but that didn't presume that they had been anything more than close friends. But the fact that she had his clothes still? That pointed to a much closer relationship than mere friends. Had they been closer, maybe even in a relationship? How the hell could he have forgotten all that? How could he have forgotten her?

He'd be happy to forget all this science fiction crap, but he sure would like to remember what sort of relationship he'd had with Catherine Chandler.

Somewhere in the middle of his internal dialogue with himself he dropped off to sleep, his arms relaxing and coming to rest on his chest and side, his breathing slowing, his eye darting under their closed lids as he started to dream.

Catherine swayed slightly as she stood in the doorway of his room watching him sleep. It had been so long since she been this intimately close to Vincent, sleep taking years off him and giving her a glimpse of what he would have looked like before she became embroiled with him and Muirfield, before all the running and hiding and fighting and bloodshed. A younger Vincent unmarked by tragedy and worry. She felt depressed, the wine making her maudlin and tired. Closing the door quietly she padded off to her own room and flopped on the bed. It was only a little after midday but she felt exhausted. Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Explosions were throwing up gouts of rock and sand, blinding and deafening him. He dodged behind the ruins of a wall, chunks of debris raining down around him. He could hear shouting but couldn't see anyone, only burnt out building and twisted wreckage of burning cars. The beat of a helicopter sounded over head and he looked up, the black shape swooping low and raking the dirt with bullets. He was too exposed, too vulnerable he needed to find cover. He took off running the helicopter turning to chase after him, strafing his heels with fire as he dodged and weaved to avoid being hit. Voices called to him, one of them a woman and he swerved to run towards the voice, his feet pounding on the hot ground, his lungs burning and all the time the helicopter stayed on his six, the noise rattling in his brain making it difficult to think. He heard his name called and he tried to find the woman, his ears muffled, his feet becoming mired by the dust, the taste thick on his tongue.

"Come out where I can see you!" he screamed, staggering and almost falling, the black monster behind him relentless in its pursuit. A ragged doorway appeared in front of him and he fell into it, the total blackness blinding him. Even here he wasn't free of the devil behind him the helicopter sitting in the doorway and still firing, the noise deafening him, the rotor blades kicking up so much grit he was blinded. "Go away!"

Catherine heard the shout and raised her head from the pillows, groggy and disoriented. She heard a thump from next door and suddenly realised it was Vincent. Fumbling for a light she swung her legs out of bed and padded barefoot to the door. The apartment was in darkness, but she knew her way and opened Vincent's door,the room beyond as black as pitch. Vincent was moaning and twisting on the bed covers, obviously in the throws of a nightmare. Approaching the bed she reached to turn on the bedside lamp but a hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her backwards. She landed flat on her back, pinned in an instant by Vincent, his grip surprisingly strong for a man only recently risen from his hospital bed. She expected to break it easily as she had that first time, but something was giving Vincent extra strength and with a shock she realised she couldn't move.

"Vincent, get off me!" She tried to kick but his legs held her down, his face only inches from hers in the darkness, his breath hot against her cheek and neck. "Vincent, you were having a nightmare, you can let me go now."

He didn't answer, just held her down with his hands and body, the feeling at once familiar but also strange. In all the time he's been gone she hadn't once looked at another man, or slept with anyone. She hadn't purposely denied herself, it had just worked out that way.

Now she was lying under him again, her body reacting as it always did in the past, melting and softening in readiness to accept him. Her lover, her man. She stopped trying to released herself and relaxed into the covers, his body following, fitting itself to her contours, his hot breath coming closer until she could feel his lips on her skin. She turned her head away but that just gave him access to her neck, his mouth opening to brush against the hammering pulse just under the skin. His tongue came out and tasted her, Catherine drawing in a sharp breath, struggling to remember that this man that smelt like her lover, felt like her lover, was not that man but instead a stranger with no memory of her or their brief time together. Despite her mind understanding this fact, her body reacted as if he had never left, arching against him to better make contact, her nipples hardening in memory of his mouth on them, her thighs relaxing to cradle him better between them.

Vincent shifted and she felt the hard length of him through his jeans, the memory of their lovemaking so sweet she heard herself moan at the contact.

He growled, low in his throat, the sound pure animal and so familiar she gasped, the parting of her lips an invitation for him to cover her mouth with his own, the kiss at once old and new again, his tongue mimicking their intimate joining while his hips slowly ground against her, sparking fires all over her body.

The grip of his hand on her arms pinning her to the bed loosened but she didn't try to free herself. Instead she raised her arms and enclosed them around his neck, holding him to her, their kiss deepening, lips and teeth clashing as passion rose and obliterated any doubts that what they were doing was wrong or inadvisable. It was right on so many levels it would be a crime not to take it to its logical conclusion.

His hand on her breast made her arch into it, his fingers playing with the hard nipple while his mouth continued to plunder and devastate her. Clothes seemed to melt away and they were suddenly skin to skin, hot and velvety, raw and beautiful, hands mapping out familiar territory, finding well loved curves and hollows. She opened to him and welcomed him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He plunged and she held on, fingers grasping his arms feeling the play of muscle under the skin, his movements sure and forceful, his grunts and growls sending shivers down her spine, blending with her moans and gasps as they moved together in harmony. In the pitch black all she had was sensation to guide her, her fingers, her legs, her mouth all aided in her quest to build the moment to its summit, her cries urging Vincent to strive harder, move faster until Catherine keened, sparks bursting behind her eyelids, her body pulsating with heat and surges of bliss, Vincent surging once, then twice then shuddering against her, pulsating inside her, his breath searing her breast. In the darkness she opened her eyes to see twin golden suns staring back at her, the brightness fading as she stared, shocked and strangely relieved, an emotion she couldn't begin to explain. Vincent wasn't a stranger after all. God, she'd missed this.

All too soon he pulled out and rolled onto his back, Catherine laying there incapable of movement, her limbs lax and unwilling to perform their function. Only her neck appeared capable of movement, Catherine turning her head to look at Vincent. Faint light from the window etched his profile, his arm flung over his face in a gesture of what, she didn't know. Shame? Embarrassment? Exhaustion?

"Vincent?" She only breathed his name but he reacted as if she'd shouted it. Rolling onto his side he sat up, long expanse of bare back towards her, his shoulders hunched, head down.

Catherine sat up too, pulling the throw over her torso and tucking it under her arms. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

"Vincent, what's wrong?"

The light outside the window was getting brighter, his body revealing itself to her out of the darkness, the wide shoulders, long black hair, rounded arms with their bulge of muscle, the indentation of his spine down to slim hips and narrow waist. Dark patches showed where he'd been injured, some of them starting to fade with fresher bruising still a dark and painful purple. Still he didn't say anything, just sat there while she let her hand smooth over his skin, dancing over the hot velvet expanse, avoiding the worst of the contusions but stroking anywhere that was undamaged. She loved touching him, loved feeling the life beneath the flesh. Sitting up she let the soft throw fall back onto the bed and drew herself up to kneel behind him, her strong fingers finding the tense muscle of his neck and collar and massaging slowly, deeply, easing the tension and soothing the knotted muscles. Vincent dropped his head lower, his elbows resting on his knees. The light outside was bright enough to expose the marks and scars marring the silky skin of his back, Catherine feeling compassion well up with the knowledge of what he must have endured. Tenderly she leant down, her hair brushing his skin, to kiss each ridge and bruise, working her way up to his neck and shoulders, her hands worming around to the front and embracing him, her breasts flattening against his back with her head resting on his shoulder.

One of his hands came up and covered hers.

"How can you bear to touch me?" he whispered. "After what I just did to you."

"You didn't do anything to me that I didn't want you to, Vincent?" she replied, her voice almost a purr.

"I was having a nightmare..." he tried to explain.

"I know, that was why I came in, you were shouting and I came to see if you were okay."

Vincent turned his head to look at her. "I thought you were the enemy, in my dream I was trying to find someone and this...this...something was shooting at me and I thought I was under attack..."

"Shhh...I know. You thought I was going to hurt you, so you stopped me." Catherine finished for him.

"I raped you," Vincent said bluntly, anguish lacing his words. "I'm so sorry."

Catherine sat back ,slid off the bed, quite naked, and came to stand in front of him.

"Vincent." She addressed him sharply, making him look up at her, the rising sun rimming her with a golden halo. " Look at me."

She stood there, hands on hips, like a goddess, her eyes unflinching as she stared into his. She could see flecks of gold and green, copper and brown in the colour of his eyes, the sun painting its own transient art work on the far wall in shades of gold and orange.

"You didn't rape me, or attack me or hurt me." She told him. "I haven't told you everything about your life before, but one thing you need to know right now. We were lovers, not for very long but long enough for me to know that I can trust you with my life, my body and my heart. You will never hurt me."

He still looked stricken, as if what she'd just told him was spoken in a foreign language without subtitles. It didn't appear to have made an impression on his assumed guilt. Obviously some other tactic would have to be employed.

Deciding that action is better than words she moved to stand between his legs, forcing him to lift his head and rear back, her breasts now directly in front of his face. His arms automatically wrapped around her, his hands resting on her lower back and behind her thighs.

"Vincent? Do you want me?" She rested her own hands lightly on his chest, not moving other than to breath in and out. She saw him swallow, his eyes unable to stay fixed on hers but wandering lower to take in the feast before his eyes. He swallowed again. Already his body was responding to her allure and the open invitation she offered.

"I want you to make love to me...now." she ordered.

He hesitated only a fraction before leaning forward and engulfing one of her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipple and tugging. While he feasted on her body she dragged her fingers through his hair, raking his scalp with her nails. He growled against her skin, sending pleasurable shivers up her spine and raising goosebumps up her arms. Suddenly she was on her back again, Vincent looming over her, his eyes glowing gold and his teeth bared, but he hadn't transformed, he was still himself. Like a panther he moved up her body until his hands were on either side of her head, then he lowered himself and she raised her legs to wrap around his hips, inviting him to sink himself inside her body, to encase himself to the hilt before starting to move. Previously his eyes had only glowed at the moment of climax. Now he stared down at her with his beautiful golden eyes and seemed to grow bigger and more leonine as she watched, his body moving with hers, rocking back and forth to create a delicious friction.

"Love me, Vincent...make me yours." she begged, letting her hands lay lax beside her head, only her lower body working with him, anchoring him to her. Vincent locked his elbows and pushed forward to bury himself deeper inside her, his head thrown back, eyes glowing and mouth open. He was magnificent and feral and wild, and he was hers again.

As the pace quickened he lowered his head and took her mouth, drinking deeply as they came together again and again, their bodies slick with sweat, the scent of them together like the sweetest musk, intoxicating and heady. Vincent suddenly stiffened and shuddered against her, his body rippling in the throws of his climax. Catherine lay still beneath him her own journey incomplete. Vincent pulled back and looked down at her, panting, his eyes back to normal. Without a word he slipped out of her and moved down her body, his mouth delving where his cock had been and sucking hard on her clitoris bringing her to a shattering orgasm that left her breathless and shaking.

When she came back to earth she opened her eyes to see Vincent licking his lips like a contented cat. He met her slumberous gaze and smiled.

"Sweet." was all he offered in way of explanation for that piece of cleverness. He lay beside her and drew her against his chest, dragging the covers over them both to cocoon them securely.

Then they slept.

Catherine's last thought was to wonder where they were supposed to go after this. Then she slept, the slumber of the truly satisfied, her body tingling with after shocks and well used.

Vincent stayed awake a bit longer, his own body relaxed and curiously energized, as if making love to the extraordinary woman in his arms had fired up parts of his body and brain that hadn't been switched on before, or at least not for a very long time. He felt truly alive and despite not having all his memories to guide him, he knew that this incredible woman would do her best to find all the missing pieces and put him back together again. With that thought to comfort him he slept too.

This time he had no nightmares, in fact no dreams at all because they were all wrapped up in the covers, sleeping beside him, touching him.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Vincent awoke to an empty bed, the sheets cold and his lover of the night long gone. He stretched and winced, his body protesting the unexpected activity of the previous hours. The sun of the early morning was gone and the sky was overcast and grey, exactly matching his conflicting emotions. He groaned softly to himself, his mind playing back parts of the events, still not sure that he hadn't done something terrible to the woman who was giving him his life back. Almost immediately his conscience reminded him that the second time was no accident or product of a nightmare infused dream. She had offered, no demanded that he make love to her, making it nigh impossible for him to refuse. And who would refuse such a strong, yet outwardly fragile woman her right to demand whatever she wanted of him. She was fiery and soft, generous and enthusiastic, a dream lover that excited him beyond measure. If he hadn't already been half in love with her, he certainly would be now. The only question now was where did they go from here? Part of his life, in fact most of his life was a huge blank. Like a newborn he had no point of reference to fall back on, no memories of family or friends, childhood or adulthood. It was unsettling and frightening, his only anchor the woman who had appeared out of nowhere and claimed him for her own. She was his lodestone to keep the terrors of not knowing at bay, if not entirely vanquished. If she cast him adrift...he shuddered at the thought, his whole being rebelling at letting go of Catherine and the hope she offered him.

He pushed himself upright, muscle protesting the movement and his injuries reminding him of their presence. Last night he'd felt none of it, his body infused with strength and power, the pain and weakness banished in the fire created by Catherine. He had experienced some strange flickering in his eyes, like he'd been staring at the sun too long, the effect seeming to magnify his ability to see in the dark, but it didn't last and most of the time he kept his eyes shut, but when the light in the room was sufficient to see his lover, he didn't shut them again, drinking in her expressions, the sounds she made, the sight of her body moving under his, all combining for an unforgettable experience.

And if Catherine was to be believed, they had been lovers before, had been in love before. An obvious conclusion suddenly blind-sided him. Catherine was still in love with him.

He sat on the side of the bed and listened. Outside the world was going about its business, cars and trucks creating a muted roar. Birds fought valiantly to be heard above the human world, while the occasional voice could be heard in a quiet moment. The drone of an aeroplane overlapped the distance hoot of train combined with a familiar rattle of wheels on tracks. If he closed his eyes the sounds seemed to magnify, becoming sharper and less muffled. He tilted his head and he could pick out actual words of someone working in a business nearby. His eyes popped open in surprise when the sound of a bird chirping sounded like it was in the room with him. It wasn't. Shaking his head he slowly pushed himself onto his feet, the covers falling away. He felt like an old man, barely able to shuffle, the sexual demi-god of the night before long forgotten. Whatever had given him the ability to make love last night, had completely drained away and he felt as weak as a kitten. Slowly he made his way to the door of his bedroom and opened it. The building was silent, himself the only occupant. Using the wall to support him he shuffled naked to the bathroom next door. Inside he turned on the shower and stepped in, the hot water sluicing down and pummeling his aching body. He stayed in there for a long time, steam filling the room and fogging the mirror tiles. At length he shut the water off and stepped out, some of his former energy returned. An efficient extractor got rid of the steam and he wiped off the mirrors to get a better look at himself all over. Dropping the towel he examined his back, frowning at the pattern of marks from his shoulders down to his buttocks. They continued down the back of his thighs as if someone had given him a thorough and systematic beating. Turning around he critically appraised his front, the scarring not so bad except for the large surgical scar on his left hip which looked old and the unmissable one on his face. There was some bruising but only in places, not like his back which almost resembled a pattern as if he'd been laying on chunks of stone, maybe a metal grill or something. He flipped his wet hair out of his face before examining his arms, the insides of his elbows bearing marks that even he recognised as track lines from frequent needle use, but his charts had exonerated him from recreational drug use, there being none in his system, nor alcohol, in fact nothing to explain either his condition or the needle marks. He wrapped the towel back around his hips and turned to the sink, a brand new toothbrush still in its packaging waiting for him to use.

Clean again he shuffled back to his bedroom, once more exhausted. Towel and all he flopped on to the mattress and just managed to pull the covers over himself before sleep dragged him under, the sound of rain drumming on the window as good as a lullaby.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Catherine sat in the café sipping her skinny flat white and wondering if she should ever go home. She clasped her cup with both hands, not because she was cold more because her hands wouldn't stop trembling.

"Cat!" Tess waved to her and she half-hearted raised a hand in reply. She was back in her blacks again, hair tightly pulled back, once more untouchable and unapproachable.

"Hey." Tess sat down and gave her a shrewd appraisal. "Oh. My. God, you've got your glow on. I haven't seen that since..." Tess stopped and let her mouth fall open. "Oh no, you didn't. Tell me you didn't.." Tess waved her hand in a loose circle in front of Catherine's face. "...do that."

Catherine closed her eyes for a moment then nodded.

Tess sat back in her chair and frowned. Catherine didn't raise her head. She just stared down at her coffee and wondered how she could explain it. Tess didn't wait for an explanation.

"Well. You won't be able to let him go now. Whatever weird shit they did to him you're going to have to deal with it now. So much for moving on. I told you it was a bad idea to have him at your place, but you wouldn't listen to me, oh no, you just had to have this romantic notion that he was the old Vincent, back from shit knows where..."

Catherine looked up, her expression so anguished it stopped Tess in her tracks.

"Hell, Cat, what are you doing?" She reached across the table and took on of Catherine's hand in her own.

"I still love him, Tess. I never really stopped. I know I talked about moving on, I even tried, really, I did. It was an accident, he had a nightmare and..."

Tell held up her hand. "Please, you don't have to say any more."

"Oh, Tess, you should see him, he's covered in bruises and marks, as if he's been systematically beaten over a long period of time. And something else..." Catherine paused and bit her lip.

Tess shrugged. "What?"

"He's still not free of the chimera effect. It may not be showing up in his blood-work, but it's still there."

"How do you know?" Tess asked, without thinking. Catherine blushed and looked down again.

"His eyes, and his strength returned...um...when...well...anyway, his eyes glowed gold just like before."

Tess looked grim. "Did he change, you know, into...?" she made a grimace, baring her teeth.

Catherine smiled. "No. Apart from the eyes thing, he remained entirely...normal."

Tess sat back in her chair and took Catherine's coffee, taking a mouthful before passing it back.

"So what now?" Tess asked.

Catherine shook her head. "I have no idea. I was thinking of maybe just not going home ever again."

Tess laughed. "I don't suppose it happened to bring his memories back, did it?"

Catherine smiled. "I don't now, I left before he woke up."

"Coward," Tess murmured, but without malice. "You want me to come with you when you tell him?"

"No. And tell him what?"

"That you and he were more than just friends. That you were in love with him. All that stuff."

Catherine shrugged and looked away. "I'll have to see how he is, then play it by ear, I suppose."

Tess leant forward again and reached for her hand. "You know, this could be a blessing in disguise."

Catherine stared at her friend. "How?"

Tess lifted one shoulder. "He doesn't have all the baggage he had before, all that guilt, you could have a fresh start together. You could have a future that you really didn't have before."

"Have you listened to a word I said? He's still the beast, inside, the difference being he's not aware of it...yet. I told him all about it, but he didn't believe me."

"You told him?"

"Of course, he needed to know." Catherine retorted. "I didn't know then that he still had the chimera abilities. I thought maybe Muirfield had abandoned him because they had tinkered with him and taken those away. His blood-work was entirely normal with no hint of any anomalies"

"Maybe they didn't do the right tests?" Tess suggested. "I mean we know that Evan did those tests, but really would a hospital bother with DNA testing for a vagrant John Doe?"

Catherine shook her head. "Maybe I misread the test results. Maybe..."

Tess interrupted her. "Have you been in contact with J.T yet?"

Catherine shook her head gain. "I haven't been in touch since I moved out of my old apartment and he moved away."

"Do you want me to find him? Maybe he can help?" Tess offered.

"He was devastated when Vincent was taken, I don't know..."

Tess nodded. "Leave it with me, I'll find him but I won't contact him until you say so. Okay?"

"Thanks. Look, I'd better go home." she drew in a breath and drew on her mantle of indifference and untouchability. It didn't fool Tess.

"This really could be a good thing, Cat, a second chance for you both."

"Until Muirfield decide they want him back again and we're back to square one. I don't know if I can take that again, Tess. You know how it's been this past year, I don't know if I can do this again."

Tess snorted. "Well you knew enough to do what you did last night. I don't think Vincent is going to forget that in a hurry!"

Catherine blushed again and bit her lip, fighting the smile trying to curve her lips. "It was rather good. But Tess..."

Tess held up on finger. "No but, there is no but. This is an opportunity handed to you on a plate. He can't be any more messed up than he was before, or you for that matter." She arched an eyebrow. "So go be messed up together, but be careful. He may not know what he's capable of, but you don't have that excuse."

Catherine sighed gustily. "Don't I know it. I'll give you a call, okay?"

"You'd better or I'll be around there and you know I won't be shy."

The two women hugged and parted outside the coffee shop, each wishing the best for the other.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

The apartment was silent when Catherine entered, with no evidence of her new house mate. The day was winding down so she decided to cook to relax herself. For the next hour or so she put together a meal that reminded her of the dinner she created for Vincent and that he couldn't attend because he fugued out. She laid the table as if for a special dinner, using accessories that hadn't seen the light of day in over a year. Once everything was set she went upstairs and had a shower, still not checking on her housemate, the hot water soothing her further, washing away all her doubts and insecurities and inducing a calm she held onto as she got dressed, as if for a date night, wearing perfume, a pair of her favourite earrings and a well loved, but beautiful sweater and comfortable jeans. When she looked in the mirror she felt confident, calm and ready for whatever happened between her and Vincent. Now she just had to face him and take it from there.

"This is Vincent," she told her reflection. "the man you loved then, and still love now." She ignored the imp of mischief that reminded her that he was not quite the man she knew before, and he certainly didn't know her with him memory gone. She shook herself to dispel the negative and focused exclusively on the positive.

Stepping out of her room she approached his door and softly knocked. When there was no response she opened the door and walked in. Vincent was laying on his front, head buried in the pillows. The later afternoon sun was painting the roof tops beyond, the window leaving the room is an early gloom, all sign of the earlier rain swept away. Catherine approached the bed slowly, almost holding her breath so as not to wake the sleeper. Most of Vincent's shoulders and back were exposed, a light sheen of perspiration giving his skin a silky gleam, Catherine pausing a step away from the head of the bed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she stared in fascination at the process going on before her very eyes. Vincent's skin was healing itself, the deep purple bruises fading even as she watched, the lines and ridges almost invisible, a direct contrast to a few hours ago. His frame was still too lean, but the terrible contusions were almost gone from the surface. It would seem that his golden eyes were not the only hang over from his Beastly enhancements. As if her very presence called to him, Vincent stirred, turning his head to face her, blinking up at her.

"Hey."

"You ready for something to eat?" Catherine asked, deciding to play is safe.

"Ravenous."

"Get dressed, I'll see you down stairs." She quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her. Making her way back to the kitchen she wondered how she was going to introduce the subject of his signs of transformations, the eyes, the healing power and all the other known and as yet unknown side effects of Muirfield's experiments. Which also raised the worrying question of why Muirfield dumped Vincent back into the real world, unless they thought he was incapable of being the beast again and decided he was of no further use to them. So why let him live at all? And why return him to New York? Had someone helped him escape, in the process robbing him of his memories? Talk about complicated. She struck a match and lit the candles, hearing Vincent coming down the stairs. He was barefoot and wearing just jeans and a t-shirt, that garment hanging loosely on him.

"You look rested." She observed, indicating the chair opposite her. Vincent seated himself, looking a little awkward and unsure.

"Catherine, about last night..."

"Early this morning, actually." Catherine corrected, handing him a plate with a serving of the meal she's prepared earlier. Vincent looked at her, ignoring the food.

"Catherine, we need to talk..." he tried again, but she indicated her plate.

"Eat, then talk."

Vincent gave up, the smell of the food reminding him how long it had been since his last meal yesterday. He scooped up a forkful and chewed, his expression turning from troubled to wondering.

"This is delicious, what is it?"

Catherine smiled, pleased he liked it. "Just your basic beef stew, with herbs and red wine."

Vincent smiled back and returned to demolishing the food, even handing it over for a second helping when Catherine offered. She had decided to lay off the wine and just drank sparkling water, giving Vincent the same. She needed a clear head to deal with the conversation to come.

The meal over, they adjourned to the sofa, Catherine sittings sideways with a leg tucked up to face Vincent, while he sat with his hands loosely clasped, between his knees, looking tense and a little apprehensive.

"Catherine..." he started but she interrupted immediately.

"Vincent, let me start. I know you have a lot of questions, but I think...I know that I need to get this out before you bring them up. Catherine drew in a deep breath to steady herself.

You and I used to be more than just friends, even more than lovers. You were my protector for many, many years. You had rescued me when I was barely out of my teens, when you first escaped from the people that made you the way you are."

"Muirfield."

"Yes. Muirfield You spent nearly ten years watching over me, but I didn't know that at the time. All I knew was that a...something...had saved me when my mother was shot in front of me. They were going to shoot me too, but you killed them, then you disappeared. We didn't meet up again until nine years later, when I was a police detective, and you had been hiding out of sight, only ever emerging at night. You hadn't even been in touch with your family. Everyone thought you had died in Afghanistan, at least the official record said you had. Instead you were going out at night and helping people all around New York. You were rescuing them from muggings, murder, robbery, trying to help where you could. You were also keeping tabs on me, keeping me safe when you were able to."

"How did we meet up again?"

"Your fingerprints were found at a crime scene. You had tried to save this woman who was poisoned, but she died. When we ran your fingerprints you came up as a deceased veteran who died in two thousand and two. All we had to go on was your previous intern-ship at the hospital, and a the name of a room-mate you had at the time, J. T . Forbes."

"J.T?" Vincent queried.

"You and he went way back, you had grown up together. He was...is...a biochemistry professor currently lecturing at the University of California, last I heard. He used his field to help you research a cure for your condition. He was a true friend to you, he helped you hide by taking over an old factory as his accommodation so you could share it together, he did whatever he could to keep you off Muirfield's radar for the best part of ten years. He gave up everything to keep you free and out of their hands." Catherine paused, thinking of those first few days after Vincent was taken.

J.T had taken is hard, blaming himself, blaming Catherine, his grief palpable, his anger at Muirfield and frustration that all those years trying to stay hidden were wasted and blown to hell. He had packed up after three months of fruitless searching and taken himself as far as he could get without leaving the country. He even left behind his budding romance with Sara Holland, a fellow lecturer he'd taking a shine to. He'd sent Tess a postcard from California but that was six months ago and since then nothing. It was like Vincent was the glue that kept them together and without him they just fell apart.

"Have you told him I'm back?" Vincent asked.

Catherine shook her head. "J.T made it very plain that he wanted nothing further to do with me, in fact he partially blamed me for Muirfield being able to snatch you. I don't blame him, it was my fault. If I hadn't trusted Gabe so blindly, if you hadn't come looking for me, if..."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. I don't remember what happened, but if this Muirfield is a powerful as you make out, it sounds like they could have taken me at any time, whatever effort you went to on my behalf."

Catherine nodded. "I always wondered if somehow they knew that you were evolving, that they were keeping tabs on you to see if exactly that happened. Maybe that wasn't it, then they had a chance to capture you and Gabe but they didn't, they shot Gabe and took you. I'd give a lot to know why they did that."

"Did what? Made a choice between me and this Gabe guy?"  
Catherine sighed. "Gabe Lowen, he was our assistant district attorney at the precinct. He just showed up one day, we didn't know then that he was already looking for you, and had a great deal of information on Muirfield. He had been a very young test subject for their early experiments, my mother helped him escape, but he wasn't like you and he needed drugs to remain in his human form for any length of time. Over the years he became resistant to the drugs and they started to work less and less, plus they were proving lethal. He decided to see if he could find my mother, but she was already dead, so he went for the next best thing, another beast like himself, but you and he were too different. He was like a first generation chimera, and you were a second or third attempt to meld human and animal DNA You don't need drugs to appear human, and you remember what you do when you're in Beast mode."

Catherine paused, noting Vincent's rather glazed expression. He was frowning as if in some confusions. It was a lot for anyone to take in, but given the handicap of his amnesia it was made a hundred times worst and she was sure she sounded like some bad science fiction author talking about her latest mad cap plot ideas.

"And you're wrong about it not being my fault. Not only had my mother been involved in the whole Chimera project from the start, the man I thought was my father, it turns out, isn't even my father. And I have a horrible suspicion that my biological father was, or is involved in Muirfield, the same as my mother was. I thought I knew my parents, but I never suspected that she anything more than a doctor, and not once was any mention made of me having a different father to my sister, Heather." Despite her best effort, her confession prompted a tearing open of old wounds. "So you see, my family were entirely responsible for what was done to you, and I compounded it by seeking you out and then...it's because of me that Muirfield took you and did whatever they did to you so you have no memory of your life." She stopped at last, her emotions perilously close to the surface.

Vincent was trying to absorb it all, as well as fit it around what he knew now, how this woman lived, her apparent solitude, her reasons why she had taken him in, all of it. And still they hadn't spoken about the one elephant left in the room – last night.

Catherine felt drained, as if she'd been to a confessional and laid out all her sins and short comings, her faults and her guilt. It might have helped if she hadn't poured it all out to the one person ill-equipped to deal with all of it, the man sitting beside her suffering from complete memory loss. To him she must sound like some raving lunatic who thinks the world revolves entirely around her family and its dysfunctional past. God, she was selfish.

"I'm sorry, Vincent. I shouldn't have told you like that. In all honesty I know little about your family, or your background prior to you joining the special forces unit. You tended to play those cards pretty close to your chest, only telling me bits and pieces of your past. All of what I know is from when I found you again with that woman's murder, so we only knew each other for a little under a year. I can't tell you what to do now, or where you should go, or even what to do with all this information. I will warn you that trying do find out more about Muirfield will only get you dead. They are very efficient at eliminating loose ends and use quite extreme measures to shut down any attempt to investigate them or the people associated with them." And image of Thomas Chandlers smashed and broken on the road, of Evan Marks shot down in front of her, of the body of Tyler, Gabe's girlfriend shot multiple times on a side-walk

Vincent didn't stop Catherine when she got up from the sofa and walked away, his brain reeling with everything he'd heard. One question nagged at him and he got up to follow her into the kitchen.

"Why did they dump me back in New York? Why there? They must have known that you were here still, that if I surfaced, given our past...relationship...that you would been looking for me. Even causing the amnesia has now been rendered pointless because of you. So why here? Surely dumping me anywhere but New York would have made more sense."

Catherine turned from where she was loading the dishwasher. "I don't know. You were in a pretty bad way, Vincent. Maybe they thought that you would be killed in a mugging, or die of starvation as a vagrant. I don't know how long you've been living on the streets, maybe you found a way to escape and lost your memory in the process. I just don't have any answers."

Vincent stood with his arms crossed. "Then answer me this. If I did escape then why haven't they snatched me again? I can't be that hard to find," He touched his scarred cheek. "This is as good as a tattoo for identification, and simply monitoring your movements would lead them to me."

Catherine shrugged. "Maybe they think whatever they did to wipe your memory would also wipe your ability to transform."

"From a human to this beast?"

"Yeah." Catherine turned away to finish loading the machine. "I checked your blood-work at the hospital and there was no sign of the corrupted DNA that used to set your blood apart from anyone else's"

"So I'm cured?" Vincent asked.

Catherine turned around to face him. "No."

Vincent stared at her. "How do you know? If it's not in my blood any more...?"

Catherine licked her lips and crossed her arms. "Because of last night."

"Ah." Vincent breathed. "At last we finally get around to last night."

Catherine tried to move past him. "Look, maybe we can talk about that tomorrow, you have so much to think about..."

Vincent stopped her by grabbing her upper arms in his hands and swinging her around to face him.

"No, you look. Last night was wonderful and surprising and quite possibly the best fuck I can remember, but given my situation I don't have a lot to compare it with. We've only known each other for a few days and unless you have some compulsion to have sex with complete strangers, there is more to this than you're telling me. What were we, to each other? I need to know."

Catherine didn't try to release herself. She stared up into Vincent's features, her eyes caressing him and remembering all his different expressions, from joy to frustration, from anxiety to laughter.

"We would have died for each other." she told him simply, those few word encompassing the whole of what they were, their passion, their unavoidable attractions, their silent empathy and almost uncanny connection.

Vincent stared down at her, his emotions swirling and dangerous, all mixed up and but also clearly focused on the woman in his arms, her bones so fragile under his fingers.

"Why did you love me?" he asked. "I was a beast, no even human, I'm still not sure what I am."

Catherine smiled. "I loved you despite all that or maybe because of all that." she decided to lay her cards on the table. "I still love you, Vincent. I never stopped. That is what happened last night. I loved you and you made love to me. You needed me because of the nightmare, and I needed you because I will always need you. I don't expect you to want to, or be able to love me again given all that I've told you, but I will always love you."

Vincent let go of her arms but she didn't move. Slowly, as if dealing with a wary animal, she raised her hand to stroked a feather light trail down his face over his scar.

"I have missed you these long months, but I never stopped loving you. I tried. But I could never let go of my memories, they tormented me, pricked me whenever I tried to move on."

Vincent sighed and closed his eyes as her hand continued to explore his face, soft as a feather, easing the tension in his neck and shoulders.

"Why can't I remember you? I want to remember so badly..." His anger and frustration welled up again and he felt something heaving and pushing to be released inside him. Opening his eyes he stared down at Catherine, her expression one of surprise which she quickly covered up.

"What? What is it?" he asked, seeing something flicker at the edge of his vision.

"Vincent, you need to calm down, you're working yourself up for nothing. No one is going to hurt you but you need to..." she got no further. Vincent was going in to a full transformation, his eyes glowing bright gold, his veins pulsating up his neck and along his arms. She took a step back. In the past seeing Vincent transform had never frightened her, but she'd trusted him then to be able to control himself. This Vincent was untried and untested, unsure of his own abilities.

As she watched he looked down at himself, feeling his body become something else, his muscles swell and his hands curl into talons. It was both horrifying and exhilarating, her own heart starting to beat a mile a minutes, her body responding to his animal side as his lips peeled back from his teeth and he snarled at her. It was primal and scary and she'd never felt more alive.

Vincent advanced and she retreated, step by slow step, slowly backing her way towards the couch, and the only way she knew to bring him down from his animal state. He followed her, not acting aggressively but still maintaining his beastly appearance, his hands flexing. When she felt the sofa hit the back of her legs she stopped, Vincent still advancing until he was right in front of her. He leant down and sniffed her, his nostrils flaring, drawing in her scent, the perfume she'd put on. Then he licked her, tasted her, growling against her skin,his hot breath making her tremble.

They had never made out when he was transformed fully before and it excited her. Slowly she pulled off her sweater and tossed it aside, Vincent following the movement with a quick turn of his head before he flicked back to watch her again. She tugged off her tank top and tossed that in the direction of the sweater. Now she wore only her jeans and bra. Vincent got rid of his t-shirt by simply ripping it from neck to hem, the pieces falling to the floor. He tilted his head to the side and bared his teeth, growling at her and glancing down at her waistline. Catherine looked down too, then up against, an eyebrow arched. Taking her time she stepped back and kicked off her shoes then undid her zipper and peeled the jeans down her hips, Vincent watching every movement with his glowing gold eyes. Stripped down to her underwear she kicked the jeans away and moved forward, placing her hands on his chest.

"What are you thinking, Vincent? Do you like what you see?" She scraped her nails over his skin and around his nipples. He growled deep in his throat and suddenly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Catherine yelped but didn't fight him as he carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom. Thrown on her bed, she lay there looking up at him, magnificent in his transformation, his jeans suffering the same fate as his t-shirt until he stood before her in full Beast mode, unleashed but not violent, untamed but not untouchable. She held out her hands to him and he got on the bed, making is way up her body on all fours, licking and biting, teasing and mouthing her limbs, his movements forceful but not ungraceful, taking what he wanted, Catherine aiding his efforts by removing her underwear before he tore it off with his teeth.

There was nothing slow about their joining, bodies coming together in a torrent of pure animal sex, Vincent growling and nipping, his breathing heavy as he plunged himself repeatedly into her body, both of them riding a wild storm, Catherine hanging on to him as he tore the covers with his claws, but never her skin.

Vincent roared when he reached his peak, head thrown back and tendons taught before slumping forward, his transformation abruptly ended and his human form exhausted to the point of passing out. Catherine cradled him, stroking his hair and any part of him she could reach, still joined to him, his weight a welcome blanket, his heart beating erratically against her own.

Sometime later he lifted his head and looked down at her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"No." Catherine told him. "You didn't hurt me at all. You never could and I know you never will."

Vincent continued to stare down at her, his eyes in shadow, no longer glowing gold. "You have such absolute faith in me, and yet I don't even know what I am."

Catherine smiled, her hand coming up to stroke his face. "You're mine, Vincent, I am yours. What else is there to know. We're destined and the fates have been kind, for once."

"Kind?"

Catherine sighed. "I thought I'd lost you. I didn't have a clue how to go on, or move forward from losing you. Now we can find a way together. I'd say that's the fates being kind."

"And where do we go from here? I have no past, or memory of one. I was not supposed to have a future, except a brutally short one. Is this enough to build a something on for us?"

"I think so. This thing between us has managed to survive the worst they can throw at us. I say we take this second chance and make something of it."  
Vincent shook his head ruefully. "How did I get so lucky to have found you?"

"Luck had nothing to do with it, Vincent. It was meant to be." Reaching up, she pulled him down to kiss her, their lips moving together while tongues tangled and breath mingled. This time was slow and loving, with tender touches and gentle hands, Catherine rolling them both so she was straddling him and doing most of the work. She gazed down at her new-old lover and rotated her pelvis, seating him intimately inside her. Vincent kept his hands on her hips, feeling the satin warmth of her skin and marveling anew at her beauty, her slumberous gaze scorching him and setting him afire once more. This was for her, his worship of her body but also his growing love for this incredible, strong woman who was prepared to take whatever he could give and still lavish him with her love. When she arched and trembled in the throws of her climax he caught her and gently lay her down, cradling her in his turn, the blankets once more employed to cover and cocoon and keep them both warm.


	5. Chapter 5

They had two more days to enjoy of Catherine's leave before she had to return to work. Two days of unbridled loving, or rediscovery and exploration, of finding each other in the physical as well as the emotional. Vincent didn't know if he had been a man who believed in destiny or love at first sight, but he believed that he loved this woman who had seen and endured all facets of his self and still loved him, giving generously of herself and not afraid to take when it suited her. Whatever he had been before, he was now hers unconditionally, and she was his. For these precious few days they kept the world and its worries at bay, swept up in their own passionate love affair with no need for anyone or anything else. It was a fantasy that neither wanted to end, but both knew it had to sometime.

Catherine left him sleeping in the rumpled bed, kissing him on one smooth, unblemished shoulder before leaving the apartment, a smile permanently curving her lips. The morning was overcast but not wet, so she walked a couple of blocks before hailing a cab. She was back in her working barb of black leather coat, black boots, jeans and polo-neck, her hair tied back from her face. Outwardly she looked the same as she had a two weeks ago but inside everything was different.

Arriving at her work she went straight to her desk and starting reading through the notes of several cases for her attention. Gerri, her partner, appeared with two coffee in her hands, plonking one down in front of Catherine before perching on the corner of the desk.

"Have a nice holiday?" she asked, staring at Catherine as if able to read her mind. "Meet anyone special?"

"Just a friend," Catherine hedged, not ready to share what she had with Vincent with anyone.

"Just a friend, hmmm." Gerri echoed. "So, this friend have a brother or something?"

Catherine smiled. Gerri Maguire was always angling for a new boyfriend, her score card littered with one night stands and occasional friends with benefits. "No, and I wouldn't refer him to you if he did. You'd eat him up and spit out the bones."

"Don't be shy, Cat, tell me what you really thing?!" Gerri hopped off the desk and sauntered over to her own. "Anything interesting on the board for today?"

"Same old...you pick a case." Catherine sat back in her chair and sipped the skinny flat white and waited for Gerri to announce their next job. Usually she picked the perps, but this morning she was distracted by what she'd left behind at her home.

"Here," Gerri tossed a file over to her and she glanced at the name.

"Simon Hackett...okay. You can fill me in while we drive."

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

After a day spent fruitlessly canvassing a neighbourhood for word of their fugitive, Catherine and Gerri returned to the office. Their shift supervisor called them in to his office.

"You two make any headway on the Hackett case?"

Catherine shook her head.

"His old neighbourhood is a bust, we got nothing from there. Tomorrow we hit the usual hang outs – loan sharks and the rest. We'll find him." Gerri told him, casting a sideways glance a her partner.

Chris Philips, their immediate supervisor nodded. "Fine. I have another case I'd like you to look at over night. I want your opinion as to whether we take it on or pass it over."

Both women stared at him. A case was never passed over, it was always pursued until an definitive answer was returned, to pass one over was to admit failure.

Chris handed them both a manilla folder. "Take a look and let me know what you think. I'll have your answer tomorrow. Now go home."

"Sure thing, Boss," Gerri answered, barely glancing at the file. Catherine was a little slower to leave. She read through the paperwork, a faint gasp leaving her lips.

"How did we get this case?" she asked, looking up to meet her supervisors gaze.

"Through the usual channels, I believe. Is there something wrong?"

Catherine shook her head, but it was obvious she was rattled. "No. I just wondered if the FBI had sent it over, that's all."

"What makes you think it's anything to do with the FBI? They usually chase their own felons."

"Yeah. I know, but this case is kinda out there...I mean, really?...This description could be right out of one of the popular teen horror flicks."

Chris sat back and steepled his fingers, regarding Catherine over the top of them. "I agree. That's why I want your opinion on it. With your police background you might have come across something similar, and have some insight as to why anyone would do this, or where they'd hide."

"Okay. I'll let you know what I think in the morning." She turned to go but Chris called her back.

"Did you enjoy your time off Chandler? I hear you had a sick friend to attend to."

Catherine pinned a smile to her face. "Yes, My friend is much better now, thanks for asking."

"That's great. See you tomorrow then."

"Sure." Catherine finally got out of the office and rushed to her locker to stash her hardware and grab her coat. She hailed a cab instead of heading for the subway, for once finding the thought of being cooped up in a train unbearable. Arriving home she rushed up the stairs and burst through her front door.  
"Vincent!?" She had no answer to her first hail, the apartment eerily silent. Sprinting up the stairs she check her bedroom then the spare and finally the bathroom, still no sign of Vincent. Panting, she took the stairs at a dangerous pace to reach the lounge and kitchen before remembering the exercise room. Vincent met her in the doorway, Catherine throwing herself at him and almost knocking him over.

"Woah, what's the matter?" He held her in his arms. "Hello to you too."

Catherine clutched him to her, her fingers digging into his back. He was sweaty and hot but she didn't care. He was solid under her hands, alive and well.

Vincent prised her off him and held her at arms length. "What the hells going on? Your heart is racing and you're all flushed."

Catherine swallowed and tried to calm herself. "I...er...I just needed to see you. It's been a long day." she said, knowing it sounded lame. Vincent let her go and reached for a towel to mop his face and chest.

"I thought I try some simple strength training to get back into shape. It took more out of me than I expected. You sure you're okay?"

Catherine nodded already feeling calmer now she knew he was safe. "Go take a shower, I'll get something started for dinner."

Vincent gave her a steady look before padding off to use the bathroom. Catherine watched him until he was out of sight then slumped against the wall, her hands braced on her knees and head down. She felt like a fool for panicking.

Over their meal Vincent touched on her precipitous entrance. "So what had you spooked this afternoon?"

Catherine pushed her food about her plate for a moment. "I was handed a file by my boss just before I left work. He wants my opinion on it."

"And that sent you home in a panic?" Vincent queried. "What's in the file?"

"Nothing, really, I was just...I needed to see you..." she tried to smile at him but it was a poor imitation of the real thing. Vincent gave up all pretence of eating and lay his fork down.

"I may not have known you very long, but I know when you're lying. Your heart tells me that."

Catherine lifted her eyes to meet his. "I think you should read it too."

"This file?"

"Yeah."

"Fine, then stop mucking about with your food and let's read it."

They sat side by side, the file spread across the sofa and their laps. Vincent was reading a report from a crime scene, while Catherine shuffled through a series of crime scene photos. With Vincent beside her she felt much calmer and less out of control. Whatever the file told them, they could face it together.

"If I'm reading this right, this is a report on a series of savage attacks in and around a certain area of the city. Apparently numerous sweeps and police cordons haven't been able to find or trap the assailant, and forensics have drawn a blank."

"No fingerprints." Catherine told him, pointing to the part of the report that detailed this. Vincent turned his hand over to examine his own fingers. His body's remarkable ability to heal had meant that faint lines and whorls had appeared on his finger tips, restoring his prints to him, although not fully.

"So, somewhere out there is another rogue experiment?" Vincent asked. "Another me doing these murders?"

"I don't know. At first I thought it might have been you..." she felt Vincent stiffened at her side, her hand coming up to stroke his arm soothingly. "But you never, in all the time I knew you, killed anyone out of cold blood, or without very good reason. Also, you were more subtle than this killer."

Vincent gave a mirthless laugh. "I'm not sure whether to be pleased or horrified by that description of my past life. I'm almost scared to ask, how may people did I kill?"

Catherine laced her fingers with his. "When you had to kill it was because it was the last resort, the only choice. The ones you killed were all bad men or women who intended to hurt or kill someone innocent. You saved me numerous times from assassins hell bent on killing me, and you even saved my sister on one occasion from being shot by her boyfriend. Your motives were always noble and for the right reasons."

Vincent lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers. "I can't imagine doing half of what you say I did, but if it meant I saved you, then I'd do it all again, whatever the rights or wrongs of it."

Catherine let his hand go and pointed to something on one of the papers. "These killings are almost entirely random, the victims having no similarity or shared anything. They are all ages, all ethnicities, different jobs, different gender. It's as if the killer just picks them at random and decides for whatever reason that person has to die. It's barbaric and shocking."

Vincent read more of the report. "There are some similarities. They all died at night in isolated places. Never the same place twice and never at the same time, but all were killed between ten pm and five am. Whoever is doing this is a night prowler."

Catherine nodded. "But no evidence left behind, no prints, no DNA, not sexual assault, no hairs or fibres." Catherine continued. "He does leave a trademark...the way he kills them, as if in a frenzied attacked, using teeth and claws like an animal."

"A Beast." Vincent added quietly.

Catherine tossed the paperwork to the floor and swung her leg over to sit astride Vincent's legs. He let his head fall back on the cushions, looking at her with half closed eyes. He loosely looped his arms about her waist while Catherine framed his face in her hands.

"You are not a Beast, Vincent Keller, you are the result of other people playing God and messing with nature. You are a good man and I won't have you thinking that I could love just any man. I love you, all of you and this killer, this sick bastard is not you, could never be you. I don't believe it and neither should you."

Vincent didn't speak for a moment, his hands stroking lazily up and down her back. "Have I told you lately that I am so in love with you?"

Catherine gave him a watery smile. "Not recently."

"Well, I am. Let me show you." He pulled her down and met her mouth with his, a slow exploration of lips and tongue taking place and driving all thoughts of killers and beasts to the far reaches of consciousness. Catherine wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him deeply, sucking his tongue into her mouth and nipping at his lips, driving him wild until he grasped her bottom in his hands and flipped her over to lay on her back on the sofa, his mouth plundering hers while his hand snaked up inside her polo neck to play with her breasts and tease her nipples into hard nubs. He pushed her top up further and unsnapped her bra, releasing her breasts into his mouth where he suckled and made her writhe against him. The case was forgotten in the heat of making love on the comfortable couch, the photos and reports abandoned on the floor as clothes were tossed and bodies collided, melded into one with a slow, rocking motion that built the flames of passion and burnt away all doubts and fears.

Later, curled up on the couch and covered by a throw, Vincent listened to Catherine breathing, her arms and legs still wrapped around him, her lips pressed to his shoulder even in sleep. Carefully he reached for the photos and inspected them intently. A few grainy images from building security cameras were also examined, the person in them obviously large and muscular, with a habit of holding his arms out from his sides with his fingers splayed. As the perp habitually wore a hoody his face was never seen, but the way he stood was itself very telling. One of the surveillance photos showed the killer looking directly at the camera, although too far away to make out features or expression clearly.

He pondered Catherine's reaction to the case, her obvious concern for him and her panic when she thought it might have been him committing those horrible murders. Although she'd never admit it, he was sure the thought had crossed her mind. Maybe it was something in the body language of the photos that reminded her of him when he was transformed, the idea making him shudder in revulsion. Whatever she had seen it had sent her flying home to see for herself that he was safe and whole and not the person depicted in the reports. Based on her faith in him, he believed the same. Whoever was stalking and killing the good people of New York, it wasn't Vincent either now or in the past. Either another Beast was loose in the city, or a killer with beastly tendencies was preying on random strangers. Either way he would need to be found and stopped.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Catherine slowly paced down the alleyway, the last sighting of their quarry. His most recent victim had been found in a back lot off Kingsbridge Avenue, across town from where the man had lived and worked. He bore the same slashing marks and lack of forensic evidence as all the other cases but the location of the body dump wasn't what they were searching for, they were looking for where the man had been snatched by his killer. Several of the victims had been taken from similar locations, the killer preferring dark alleys and tall buildings to mask his kidnappings and murders. Her partner was checking out a parallel narrow street, the two women in constant contact via radio. Still, Catherine would have given much to have Vincent at her side covering her back, but that wasn't an option. Keeping her eyes peeled, she peered around the corner of the alleyway, checking in both directions before taking the right alley. It was still light, but the tall buildings either side blocked the afternoon sun, casting deep shadows.

"Are you there, Gerri, anything?"

The radio crackled and then her partners voice replied. "Nothing yet. Just passed the company that the last victim worked at. Moving along to the next victims crime scene."

Catherine clipped her radio back on her belt and continued along the narrow lane, hedged in on all sides. A few feet in front of her a metal door abruptly opened, banging back against the wall and bouncing back but not quite closing. Catherine jumped and stopped, reaching for her Taser gun and bringing it to bear. No one appeared out of the doorway and she instantly went on the alert.

"You in the doorway, come out and show yourself."

She waited but nothing happened except the shadows somehow seemed deeper and blacker the longer she waited. Inching forward she approached the doorway in an wide arc , keeping as much distance as possible between her and whoever had pushed the door open.

"Come out where I can see you." she shouted, her voice echoing off the buildings about her. A metallic sound made her twist around and look up at the network of fire-escapes like scaffolding against the stonework. When she turned back he was within a foot of her, his lips pulled back in a snarl, her Taser knocked out of her hands with a swipe that left her arm numb. There was little she could do to defend herself, the Beast in front of her picking her up and tossing her through the air to land heavily against a metal dumpster, her head ringing with the impact. When she could focus he was standing over her, one clawed hand reaching down and grabbing her hair to pull her back on her feet. The pain was excruciating and she screamed, grabbing at his other hand as it closed about her throat under her chin, forcing her head up and back, Catherine raking her nails down his arm to make him let her go. He didn't, instead pulling her closer so that his hot breath seared her exposed neck, her booted feet off the ground and kicking ineffectually at his torso.

He was taller than Vincent, his face contorted and savage in a way that reminded her forcibly of Gabe when he was fully beasted out. Instead of Vincent's golden eyes, this Beast had a red glow, his eyes mere slits below heavy brows and shaggy brown hair. As she struggled and clawed against the fist choking off her windpipe, he flung her against the wall beside the dumpster, her head hitting the bricks and causing her to lose consciousness.

She stayed that way, slumped in the alley, and never saw or heard what happened to her assailant. When she finally opened her eyes it was full dark and Gerri was crouched beside her.

"God, Cat what the hell happened? I almost didn't see you there in the shadows. You didn't answer your radio or your phone. Shit, that looks nasty..." Gerri made to touch Catherine's head but she flinched away, her eyes wide as she looked left and right and past her partner to see where her assailant was hiding.

"Where is he? Did you see him? Did he get past you?"

"Who are you talking about, Cat? Who did this to you?" Gerri took her hand and helped her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed.

"He was here, he came out of that door, I didn't see him coming..." Catherine stammered to a halt, her head pounding.

"Maybe we should get you do an emergency room, you don't look too good." Gerri suggested, keeping one hand under her elbow to help steady her.

"My Taser, it's over there somewhere..." Catherine indicated the other side of the alley and they went there to look. Sure enough her Taser was sitting there, unfired and undamaged. Catherine looked over at the door but it was secured again, and locked when they went to open it.

Gerri was looking at her as they retraced their steps out of the alley to where Gerri had left their car.

"Sure you don't want me to take you to hospital, you look like hell."

"I'll be fine. I have to file a report so let's go back to the office. The quicker I do that, the sooner I can go home."

Gerri didn't try to force her, but drove them both back to work, casting glances at Catherine all the way.

Catherine dragged herself up the stairs and fumbled the locks, taking two goes to get her key in the door. By the time she managed to get the door open Vincent was on the other side, Catherine never so glad to see anyone in her life. She stood swaying slightly in the doorway and he took in her dishevelled appearance and glazed eyes, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom. There he laid her gently on the covers, removed her boots and took off her coat.

Sitting on the side of the bed he carefully inspected her head, smelling the blood on her and seeing the strands stuck together in her dark hair. While she lay there, eyes closed, he went to the bathroom and returned with a few things. As gently as possible he soaked her wounded head, putting a towel on the pillow to keep from staining it. Catherine moaned despite his care, her head still pounding from being thrown about like a rag doll. Vincent worked grimly, easing the hair away from the wound, inspecting the broken skin before going for an icepack to reduce the swelling. Through it all Catherine lay there and let him do what needed to be done, too tired and hurting to lift a finger in protest. He helped her off with her jeans and covered her with the throw before laying down beside her, replacing the ice pack as it melted and giving her pain killers to ease her headache. Not once did he ask her what happened or reproach her for getting hurt on the job. His calm presence soothed her aching head and bruised body, his tender touch easing some of the tension exacerbating her condition.

"Thank you..." her slurred appreciation only served to worry him further, but he didn't voice his concern, that would come later.

"You're welcome. I'll have to wake you during the night, but for now, try and rest. I'll keep watch so you don't have to worry, okay?"

"Mmmokay.." Catherine murmured, her eyelids too heavy to lift. His hand found hers and they laced fingers, her last conscious thought being that she was safe at last, Vincent would protect her.

True to his promise he kept watch over her during the night, waking her periodically to check her vision and pain levels. By morning she was able to ring work and explain to Gerri she wasn't able to come in that day. Gerri wasn't at all surprised and promised not to bag the bad guy until she was able to be there.

Vincent took the phone from her and placed it on the beside table.

"Feel able to tell me what the hell happened to you yesterday?" He kept his voice low but Catherine could hear the reproach nonetheless.

"We were revisiting some of the crime scenes in the district where some of his victims, particularly his last, worked and lived in. Gerri and I were only a building apart, but this door swung open in front of me," she paused, reaching up a hand to feel the tender lump on the side of her head. "I heard a noise and then he was just there, he moved so fast. He knocked my Taser away then threw me across the alley and into the side of a dumpster. He was fully beasted out, but his eyes were red, not gold like yours." She paused and winced as bruises down her side protested the movement with her arm. "Ouch."

"What happened then?" Vincent prompted.

"He picked me up by my hair and threw me against the wall. I think I must have blacked out because the next thing I saw was Gerri bending over me. I think I must have screamed at some point, but he was gone when I could see again." She moaned when she twisted, her hand going to her side. Vincent brushed her hand away and lifted her polo neck, sucking in a breath when he saw the extent of her injuries, her entire right side a mass of purple and red bruising.

"Let's get you into something more comfortable. I'm sorry if this hurts you but you need to get out of these clothes." He lifted her as carefully as he could but Catherine still cried out, her head falling on his shoulder as he eased off her top and took off her bra. Her neck showed where the killer had tried to squeeze the life from her, finger marks clearly visible in the harsh morning light. Keeping a tight rein on his temper he helped her into the softest t-shirt he could find, Catherine crying from the pain despite his care of her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." he crooned, easing her arms into the armholes and pulling is down over her breasts and stomach. She had another long bruise on her thigh that looked suspiciously like someone had kicked her, his blood fizzing as he imagined finding the creature that dared to hurt his beautiful, brave love. "You're safe now, I've gotcha, just hold on to me and I'll keep you safe." He talked softly as she wept on his shoulder, her fingers clutching at his shirt while he held her.

Her fears and hurts cried out, Catherine slept again, holding on to Vincent's hand until she was too far gone to notice him leaving her side. Picking up the discarded clothes he raised her polo neck to his nose, inhaling the differing scents it held. There were the expected scents of Catherine, her deodorant and perfume, laundry powder and warm woman but there was something else, an alien smell that caused him to check her other clothes for something similar. All of them carried the same feral smell of something that was more animal than human. Somehow he knew this was the smell of the Beast, rank and foetid and alien. He could feel the hackles on the back of his neck and arms rise up, his own Beast responding to the presence of another, a male intruding on his territory, marking his mate and threatening her life. Caught up in the throws of his transformation he dropped the clothes on the bathroom floor and leant on one of the sinks, shaking his head as his body changed, his arms showing blue veins swelling and snaking up them. Vincent stared down at them, his hands spread as he watched the nails grow and lengthen. Looking up he stared at himself in the mirror, both fascinated and horrified at his beastly appearance. He could see his own eyes start to glow with a golden fire, his lips peel back as he snarled, his face change and contort out of all recognition. It shocked and repulsed him to think that Catherine had seen all this and not run screaming a million miles away from him. Almost at once he started to change back, returning to his normal self in a matter of moments, leaving him shaking and staring back at himself in shock. Running a sink of cold water he splashed his face and stood leaning on the sink edge, trying to calm his racing heart. Avoiding meeting his own eyes in the mirrored walls, he scooped up the laundry and shoved it down the chute before leaving the bathroom and returning to Catherine.


	6. Chapter 6

Catherine returned to work, despite Vincent's hotly worded concerns, her need to impress upon her boss that the felon they were pursuing was more dangerous than anyone they'd gone after before.

"Are you saying you don't want this assignment?" Chris asked her.

"I'm saying that it will take more than one or two people to take this man down. I was lucky this time, but I didn't get off scot free. I would show you my bruises but they're in places inappropriate for show and tell." She pulled down the neck of her polo to show him her neck. He winced. "Unless you are going to arm us with something more effective than a Taser, I would hand this case back to whoever gave it to you and say no thanks." She paused. "Either that or stage a proper man hunt for this...man. He's not your run of the mill felon or bail jumper."

Her boss appeared to consider her warning. "You and Maguire have proved to be one of my best and most successful teams, so I will heed what you say. We don't have the manpower to launch a hunt for this one, so I'll do as you recommend and send it back and tell them to organise their own manhunt. In the meantime you can carry on with the Hackett case, that should be a little less...exciting."

Catherine nodded and left his office, glad that she wouldn't have to pursue her assailant any more.

Vincent checked the map book, looking up from his seat to check the cross street the bus had just passed and pin point his location. He had already taken two buses to get where he needed to be, the prosaic transport a necessity given the paucity of his finances. Not that Catherine hadn't made a bank card available for him to use, it was rather that he didn't want to use it more than necessary. Tucking the map book into the backpack by his side he got up and jumped off at the next stop.

He had retained the address of the last crime scene, the same place Catherine had gone to and been attacked. Now it was his turn to seek out this Beast that had escaped unpunished.

Walking three blocks he was approaching the general area, his head lifting as he scented something familiar. Almost jogging he followed the scent trail down a narrow ally and suddenly he was there. This was where Catherine had been, her unique signature easy to track, her scent over laid with something else, the same something that had infused her clothes and raised the hackles on his neck. He reached a crossroad of access lanes, his noses scenting the air, directing him to the right hand alley, the metal fire escapes almost meeting above the shadowy ground below. He paused by a dumpster and stashed the back pack there, not wanting to be hampered by anything while he pursued his quarry. The rank smell of the beastly killer was stronger now, almost obscuring Catherine's. Up ahead was the door she'd described, her trail ending abruptly beside the dumpster, her blood still smeared on the metal sides and brick wall beside it. This was the place. Drawing in a deep breath he let it out slowly, allowing the Beast within to come out and take part in whatever followed. He walked past the door to the next branch but the trail was old and stale there, retracing his steps he did the same in the other direction but with similar results. Whatever the creature he was tracking it's lair was inside the building with the metal door. He tried the handle but it was locked, frustrating his efforts to enter. Looking up the building he could see a small window, a short leap from the fire escape opposite. With inhuman speed he clambered up the metal work until he crouched poised across from the window. Bunching his muscles he leapt, bridging the gap easily and smashing through the window, doing a tuck and roll into the room beyond. Here the smell was over powering, his eyes flicking over into infra-red and showing him an interior bathed in a strange pinkish light. The place looked deserted but his nose didn't lie. His entrance hadn't prompted any response so he pulled open the door and walked out into a corridor, the place dark and musty from disuse. Several offices opened off the hallway, all dark and all deserted but every room reeked of blood and creature, his lip curling as he followed the foetid trail deeper into the building. On the ground floor he found the door to the outside and unbolted but didn't open it. Turning back into the building he systematically checked each and every room finding scraps of bit and pieces that could be easily overlooked by anyone without his enhanced senses as nothing more than rubbish or the remains of squatters occupation. A sound alerted him that someone or something was in the building, the distance and echo making it harder to pinpoint the source. If it was the Beast coming back to his lair then he'd be able to detect an intruder as easily as Vincent could detect him.

Taking a moment, Vincent allowed his own Beast to manifest, his transformation completed just in time as something rushed at him out of the darkness. The creature pulled up sharply when Vincent turned to face him, recognising that his intruder was like himself. Both men bared their teeth and roared their challenge, the empty rooms echoing the sound and magnifying it, sending pigeons fluttering in panic from the girders above their heads. They circled each other, leaving the offices behind and entering an open space that had been a loading dock for the company. Milky light came through the dirty windows as the two continued to circle and measure up the their opponent. Vincent made a feint and the other beast swung, Vincent dodging back then closing, the two slashing at each other then just as quickly withdrawing. Vincent's jacket bore the brunt of the attack, the fabric ripped apart. His attacker fared worse, having no outer layer to protect him, Vincent's claws tearing a gash down one arm and across his chest. The smell of blood intensified, the beast crouching low to spring up at Vincent, a back hand swing sending Vincent reeling back only to dig his boots into the dust and surge forward again. Despite the other beast being taller and broader, Vincent was younger and quicker, the pair evenly matched. Soon they were both sporting cuts and gashes, dripping with sweat and no discernible end in sight. Feeling his Beastly strength starting to wane, Vincent hefted a length of timber and swung hard, the other beast catching the makeshift weapon and wrenching it out of his hands to throw away it into the shadows. Sensing his opponents weakening, the other beast closed in for the kill, rushing forward only for Vincent to dodge to the side, the forward momentum carrying the beast over the edge and into a deep inspection pit, his roar ending abruptly when his head bounced off the concrete floor. Stunned, the creature found himself trussed and secured by a length of chain, Vincent straddling him and snarling his triumph at him.

Satisfied his opponent was caught, Vincent climbed out of the pit and sat on the edge, reverting to his human self and almost passing out from exhaustion. Laying back on the cold concrete he stared up at the distant roof and panted to get his breath back. With each conversion into his Beast he was getting stronger and better able to recover, but he wasn't there yet. Sitting up he peered down at his captive, the other beast still struggling and fighting the chains, no sign of him coming down from his change any-time soon. Having regained his breath, Vincent pulled out the zip ties he'd taken from Catherine's coat and jumped back down to double secure his prisoner. If and when the creature reverted back to his human form, his body would shrink and the chains loosen. Vincent wanted to go get his back pack which had a phone he could call Catherine on, but he didn't want to risk the creature escaping before he returned. Satisfied at last, he climbed back out of the pit and went to the back door, checking the alley before setting off to collect his belongings.

When he returned the creature was still where he left him, no longer struggling but still transformed.

"Still as ugly as ever," Vincent remarked, pulling out the phone and dialing Catherine's number. It rang a couple of times then her voice answered.

"Vincent, where are you?" her worry was palpable.

"I'm fine. I have your quarry." he told her without preamble. He heard her sharply indrawn breath before she spoke again.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"No doubt about it. He reeks the same as your clothes. I found where he attacked you and searched the building. We fought, he lost."

"Were you injured?"

"No. Nothing a hot shower won't put right. What do you want me to do with him? He's till all beasted out and doesn't seem able to revert."

"Leave him there. I'll come and meet you," she reeled off an address not far from the building and he repeated it back.

"I'll see you soon."

He shoved the phone in his pocket and started to get up, hefting the back pack over his shoulder.

A rattle of chains drew his attention back to his captive. A guttural noise issued from the creatures mouth and it took him a second to realise it was speaking.

"What will you do with me?" it asked, red eyes still glowing in the gloom. Vincent stared down at it impassively.

"You'll be handed over to the police to deal with."

The creature roared then subsided. "Kill me now and be done with it."

Vincent crouched on the side of the pit. "I'm not a killer."

Peeling back it's lips the creature made a sound similar to a laugh. "You're a beast like me, that makes you a killer like me."

Vincent shook his head. "No. I may be a Beast, but you are just an animal." He turned to go.

"I can smell her on you, the stench of a human, that woman I saw the other day. Is she your keeper?" The creatures voice was becoming more normal, Vincent glancing back and seeing the man emerge from his beastly persona. He was older than Vincent by at least a decade, his features permanently twisted, teeth bared and lips pulled back in a habitual sneer. His eyes no longer glowed red but they appeared bloodshot, his hair ragged and filthy.

"Who she is, is none of your fucking business." Vincent told him with quiet menace then turned to leave.

"She'll turn on you...they all do...this is your future, this!" the man shouted after him.

"Never." Vincent stated, not looking back.

Catherine met him at the appointed place half an hour later, Vincent glad to be out of the building and breathing the fresh air again after the foetid atmosphere of the creatures lair. Outside, human life carried on regardless, the traffic and people going about their business, unaware and uncaring of the drama just played out in their midst. He felt as if he lived in a world apart, an invisible barrier of ignorance between him and the rest of the population. Only Catherine managed to bridge that gap, managed to pull him over into her world and not leave him isolated and alone.

She had been at work, hastily requisitioned a car and driven at breakneck speed to the rendezvous, barely coming to a halt before flying out and throwing her arms around him, checking him for injuries and exclaiming at the rents and tears in his clothing. He eventually kissed her just to get her to shut up, that simple gesture calming her more thoroughly than any words.  
"I'm fine, Catherine. Just a little tired. I'm getting better, but I still feel drained every time I transform."

She nodded, accepting his word for it. "Take me to him."

They entered the building together through the door Vincent has left opened. He led her through the labyrinth layout to the loading dock, the chimera still where he left him, laying in the bottom of the inspection pit. There was no evidence now that the man had been a creature. He looked more like a vagrant than anything else. Catherine pulled out her Taser and the man cringed back, scrabbling for purchase despite his ankles being bound. Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"Are you going to Taser him anyway?"

Catherine fired the weapon off to the side so the wires shot out and it discharged. She then bundled them up and placed them by the pit.

"Gotta set the scene for when the police arrive." she told him pulling out her phone and dialing. She called it in and then called her boss, explaining the situation. Her calls done she walked with Vincent back to the metal door.

"You have to go now. I'll wait for the police to arrive. Can you find your way home from here?"

Vincent showed her his map book. "I'll manage. I'll see you at home later. Will they believe you took this guy down on your own?"

"I'll convince them. Now go before anyone sees you." She kissed him and pushed him to get walking. Vincent doing as she suggested until he was out of sight, then he scaled the nearest fire escape and found a place he could watch over her from the top of the closest building. Catherine stayed outside until a squad car arrived, then they all went inside. He waited and saw another car arrive, this time with Catherine's work partner, Gerri, then a police van arrived with more men and a forensic team. He remained out of sight until he saw the man being taken and put into the van and secured. At one point the beast looked up at the building Vincent was on, Vincent ducking back out of sight when the police also looked up. He watched the van pull away and Catherine talking with her partner before the two women left the scene and he felt it was time he left too, his work done.

The bus ride back was anticlimactic but he was glad to put his head back and close his eyes. He was still recovering and his transformation had left him exhausted, this time more than any other. At the last stop he got off and walked the couple of blocks to Catherine's apartment, glad when the roller door came into view. A man stepped out of a car parked a little further down the street and Vincent stopped walking, wary and alert, his tiredness dropping away. The man remained by his car, not advancing or doing anything threatening. They stood on the side-walk fifty feet apart and regarded each other.

"I just want to talk, Vincent." The man finally called out.

Vincent resumed walking, going past Catherine's roller door without glancing at it. He stopped when there was ten feet separating him from the stranger. No one else appeared to be in the car or nearby.

"What do you want with me?" Vincent asked. "And how do you know my name?"

The man stood there, hands tucked into his coat pockets, feet braced a little apart. "I created you, Vincent. I also made sure you were returned so that she could find you."

Vincent glanced around the street and even up at the sky, checking for the hidden reinforcements.

"There's no one else here, Vincent. Just me."

"I won't go without a fight," Vincent announced, sliding the back pack off and letting it drop to the ground. The man smiled.

"I'm not here to take you back, I'm here to give you some advise."

Vincent bristled. "What the fuck makes you think I want anything from you, let alone advice?"

"It's about Catherine."

That brought Vincent up short. "What about her?"

"Every man has regrets, mine was Catherine's mother, Vanessa. I tried to make things right by having you imprinted on her, making you her protector, but I didn't count on my predecessor being so...impassioned by her defection. He ordered the hit on her and Catherine, my child, should have died too, but you saved her. I was too late to do much more than step in after the fact, by which time you had transferred your allegiance from mother to daughter."

Vincent sneered. "This is all ancient history. Why did you snatch me a year ago, then return me after wiping out my memories?"

The man shrugged. "We tinkered but were unable to reverse the effects of the gene-splicing. We hoped that if we wiped all memory of your past it might also wipe your ability to transform. In the end we returned you in the sure knowledge that Catherine hadn't given up looking for you and would find you eventually. It just took a little longer than we expected."

In the space of a heartbeat Vincent transformed and pounced, the man's coat bunched in his fist, golden eyes now inches from his tormentor's startled gaze as he felt himself lifted off the ground.

Vincent lowered him back to the side-walk and released the man's coat, stepping away and reverting back in the blink of an eye to stare into the wide eyes of the man from Muirfield.

"You may have stolen my fucking memories, but nothing else has changed. I am still a Beast."

A car pulled up behind them and Vincent knew it was Catherine before she spoke a word. The man's eyes flickered to look past Vincent's shoulder, his eyes widening as his daughter approached cautiously, a gun in her hand.

"Vincent? What's going on here, who is this man?"

Vincent never took his eyes off him. "He's the one who took me, the one that returned me and the one that stole my memories from me. He claims to be..." but the man was shaking his head, a mute appeal in his eyes.

"What?" Catherine asked. "What is he?"

Vincent stepped back, confused but still wary. "He can tell you himself."

Catherine reached his side, the gun still trained on the stranger. Vincent reached up and placed his hand on the barrel, making her lower the gun. Catherine flicked him a questioning glance.

"He's here alone, there's no helicopters or hidden assassins." Vincent told her.

The man visibly wilted, then straightened.

"I am the man who created the Chimera project. I made Vincent what he is. I knew your mother..." he got no further in his confession.

"Oh, my God, you're my father." Catherine blurted out. "My mother was pregnant with me when she married Thomas Chandler."

"Correct." the man confirmed. "But now I need to warn you. I made sure that Vincent was returned to where you'd find him but now you're not safe. You need to leave here and find somewhere no-one would think of looking."

Catherine stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "After all that you've done to us, to him, why should I listen to or believe a word you're saying."

"He's telling the truth," Vincent said quietly. "He's settling his conscience before he dies. Isn't that right?"

The man looked up in surprise. "How do you...?"

Vincent shrugged. "I'm getting better at interpreting my reactions to people. You smell of death."

Catherine look at Vincent, shocked at his brutal assessment.

The man nodded. "You are right. I don't have long to live. Neither will both of you if you don't leave New York."

"Why now? What has changed?" Catherine asked.

"They're cleaning house. With this latest string of beast murders..."

"We caught him today," Vincent interrupted.

"Then he'll be dead already. Any of our past...experiments...or anyone associated with them who knows about their special abilities will be eliminated. Friends, associates, old girlfriends, family there is no barrier to the new administration tidying up any and all loose threads."

Catherine gasped. "My sister?"

The man nodded grimly. "Anyone you can convince, get them out of New York, convince them to leave the country if you can."

"When is this all happening?" Vincent asked, looking equally grim.

"I don't know the exact time frame, I'm not in the loop any more, but it will be soon. You have to convince anyone who has seen Vincent, or helped him, to escape or they are dead. I can't put if more strongly than that. I'm sorry."

"What about you?" Vincent asked.

The man laughed mirthlessly. "I don't have long anyway, but I don't intend to be around here for someone to take pot-shots at. You won't see me again." He looked at Catherine, his expression remorseful. "I'm sorry it's turned out this way. Whatever the outcome, I loved your mother."

Taking as last look at them both, the man turned away and got into his car, pulling out from the kerb and leaving his stunned audience standing on the side-walk

Vincent tugged Catherine around and pulled her towards the roller door to her apartment. "We have to pack now."

Catherine pulled herself out of her shock and fumbled for her keys, her hands shaking. Vincent took them and bundled them both inside, slamming the roller door shut behind them. An hour later and they had packed the car with the essentials and were ready to leave. Catherine had already alerted Tess to their imminent arrival at her place without telling her why, feeling it better to do that face to face. The apartment was stripped of anything personal to her and Catherine barely looked back before pulling the door closed and locking it for the last time. She had already been in touch with a real estate agent about disposing of the property and they would drop off the necessary documents and keys on their way to Tess's.

It was dark when they arrived at her best friends apartment. Tess hugged Catherine, then hugged Vincent, much to his surprise. Catherine quickly and succinctly told Tess what they knew, Tess sinking down onto her couch, her mouth open as the story unfolded, it's ending anything but a happy one.

"You're leaving?" she asked, staring from one to the other.

"Tonight." Catherine said. "And you need to leave too. I'm so sorry, Tess."

Tess looked around at her apartment, at all the personal stuff scattered around walls and surfaces, her life in pictures and memento's "I can't leave, that's crazy. I have a job, I have a boyfriend..."

"Tess, I know this is a shock but you have to think. We know what Muirfield are capable of. They've proved that time and time again. Think of Gabe, Tyler, that agent that came to the precinct, the men that chased Vincent down in the tunnels, the men and resources they put into that computer hub at The Orchard...they are too many and too powerful to stand again." Catherine stopped and looked at her best friend with tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want you to die, Tess. I know this is all my fault, but I can't bear the thought of you dying because of my mistake."

"And you believe every word this man...you father...told you?"

"He has no reason to lie, Tess. He's dying."

Tess pulled Catherine in close, both women clinging to each other and crying. Vincent sat looking down at his hands, not wanting to intrude on the moment. Eventually Tess let Catherine go, the two of them wiping their eyes.

Tess was the first to speak. "I have an Aunt down south who I owe a visit. I have a ton of leave owing so it can be an extended break and you never know, I might even put in for a transfer. What will you two do?"

Catherine and Vincent shared a look. Catherine turned back. "We haven't planned that far ahead yet. Give me your aunt's address and if we can, I'll send you something to tell you we're alright, okay?"

Tess gave her best friend a watery smile. "Sure. The less I know the less I have to tell when the questions start. Have you told your work."

Catherine shook her head. "We're on our way there next, and to check on the felon Vincent caught today."

Tess looked at Vincent, her eyebrows raised. "You didn't take long to get back into the swing of things." she turned back to Catherine. "Now shoo, the pair of you. I have stuff I need to do, and I imagine you won't be getting much sleep tonight, so go. Drag out the goodbyes and I won't be able to let go of either of you." She hugged Vincent first and kissed him on the cheek. "Look after my best friend, don't let her down...ever." she whispered for his ears alone, then she let him go.

Turning to Catherine, Tess wrapped her in her arms and held on tight for several moments before pushing her away, both of them with wet eyes. "Don't get dead!" Tess told her, looking fierce despite the tears falling down her cheeks. The she turned away and scribbled an address on a piece of paper before thrusting it into Catherine's hands. "If I'm not there, she'll know where I am. Now go."

Tess watched the pair leave, shutting the door firmly behind them. Then she turned to survey her cosy apartment and all it contained. Drawing in a deep breath she moved to the hall cupboard and pulled out a stack of brown, unused flattened boxes she'd been keeping for when she had her annual turn out for goodwill. "Time for an early spring clean, only in reverse." Wiping her face she took the boxes and headed for her bedroom.

Catherine sat at the wheel of the car and took a moment to wipe her eyes. "God, that was hard."

Vincent reached for her hand and she took it, lacing her fingers with his.

"I'm sorry you have leave everything because of me," said Vincent softly. Catherine turned to look at him.

"I don't blame you, Vincent, as far as I can see this is the fault of a great many people who kept the truth hidden for too long. I'm thirty and I only now know that my father is in fact my stepfather, that my biological father is dying after being involved with a heinous and illegal operation turning good men, good soldiers into beasts and who-knows-how many others like that murderer today are loose on the streets after being dumped there by Muirfield. They probably did that as a social experiment, but forgot to warn the populace or anyone else they were guinea pigs. In the past two years everything I have believed about my family, my life and the world, has been turned on its head. There is no one to blame except this faceless corporation who feels powerful enough to snuff people out with impunity, hiding behind bogus identities and hidden agendas. I almost envy you, Vincent, your lost memories, I wish I could lose a few of my own." Catherine finished her angry tirade on a whisper, lowering her head to the steering wheel for a couple of seconds before lifting it and looking over at her lover. "We only have two stops before we are out of here. My work and my family. For all the sins of the past I have to give them a chance of escaping Muirfield's purge."

Vincent sat in the car and fidgeted. Catherine was inside the building wrapping up her job, handing in her notice and arranging her final pay. She was also going to follow up on the beastman case.

The car door opened and Catherine got in, slamming the door hard behind her. She was seething and he didn't say a word until her anger subsided a little.

"Bad news?" he finally asked.

"He's dead. They think poison but can't find a source or how it was done." Catherine sat back in her seat and rested her head back against the headrest. "They moved fast, he barely made it back to the precinct and they had him in an interview room. By the time the officers arrived to conduct the interview he was dead on the floor."

"Shit. You need to warn Tess, she might not have as much time as we thought."

Catherine pulled out her phone and dialed, getting Tess on the third ring. "Tess? They're moving much faster than we thought. The perp is dead already and you might not have much time. Take what you can and go. Now. Do what you can over the phone and get out of there." She listened to Tess's answer then hung up.

"We need to get to my family now."

They arrived at the Chandler home to find it surrounded by fire trucks and police cars. Catherine drove past and parked a little way down the street, her face white and her hands shaking.

"We're too late..." she whispered, agonised at the thought of what seemed to have happened.

"Stay here, I'll go and find out the situation. Do not leave this car." He waited for her to nod before getting out and shutting the door, heaving the locks engage before he started walking back to where the flames of the burning house illuminated the street. He mingled with the other residents all watching and caught snatches of conversation, piecing together the events. He had a word with one of the young police officers manning the crowd barriers, the young man giving him what he needed to know before returning to Catherine.

Catherine looked up when Vincent tapped on the passenger window, unlocking the door so he could get in. She couldn't ask, her throat too choked with horror

"They weren't in the house, Catherine, they must have been tipped off because neighbours saw them leave only an hour or so before the blaze started. Heather had already left for her trip to Paris last week, so she's safe and your stepfather and Brooke looked to be packing for a holiday, so their neighbour said. Their safe, for now."

"Oh, thank God." Catherine covered her face with her hands, still feeling sick to think of the people she knew and loved still in the burning house. After a few moments, Catherine lowered her hands and set them on the steering wheel.

"Right. Everything is done or in hand. There's nothing more we can do here." She looked over at Vincent. "Pick a direction. When we get far enough away from the city we'll ditch this and get another car. I still have our fake I.D's and a bunch of others. We still have to get a hold of J.T somehow, and warn him..."

"Then let's head west. You said he was out in California and I don't have a clue whether I've been there before, so let's go there."

"As good a choice as any." Catherine agreed, putting the car in gear and heading down the road, the burning house and flashing lights getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.


	7. Chapter 7

They dumped the car in Ohio, paying cash for a replacement and giving fake names for the paperwork. When they stopped in Nebraska they found that Catherine's account that she'd set up months past in case it was needed had received an injection of cash to the tune of five hundred thousand dollars from a mystery donation. Without questioning the source she emptied the account and closed it. She had another account set up to receive the proceed from the sale of her apartment but would let that accumulate interest for the time being, in case that was traced. In a few years, if they were still alive, they would use it, but for now it would remain untouched.

When they crossed Colorado they found a halfway decent motel in Denver and decided to get out of the car and enjoy the scenery for a couple of days. With its dramatic backdrop of high mountain peaks it was a great place to stop and just be a couple. In their mad dash across the continent they had only snatched moments of calm when they stopped at various out of the way motels, usually too exhausted from the non-stop driving to do more than fall into each others arms and sleep.

To fill the long hours Catherine had started to tell Vincent of the months they'd spent learning to know each other, by the time they were approaching their destination Vincent had been told all there was to know about his year before he went missing, all through Catherine's eyes.

They arrived in Los Angeles six days after escaping New York. They would start their search for J.T there.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

James Tiberius Forbes, better known to friends and colleagues as J.T, shuffled the papers on his desk for the third time. He was supposed to be marking them, but their words were all blurring together so he pushed them aside and went to rub his eyes, only stopping at the last moment when he remember he was wearing contacts and rubbing his eyes was a good way to dislodge them.

Swearing under his breath he massaged his forehead instead, lifting the over long hair out of the way, that also reminding him that he needed a trim before too long.

Anyone from his old life would have had to take a double look to recognise him now. With longer hair, no glasses, coloured contacts and having shed several pounds he looked a different man. His taste in clothes had changed too, leaving behind the plaid shirts and baseball caps for something more relaxed, in keeping with his new life in sunny Los Angeles.

Some would ask why he didn't change his name along with his appearance but Forbes was not an uncommon name and having letters for your first name was positively passée in Hollywood, so he kept his name and instead made himself unrecognisable to a casual observer. With his tenure at UCLA and a small apartment off campus he had truly pressed the reset button on his life. The move hadn't been without an emotional cost but a year after losing his friend has passed quicker than he expected. The university had an outstanding biochemistry laboratory and his own pet projects were producing incredible results. Despite being the new boy on the staff he was making friends and settling in. Despite missing a great many things he'd left behind in New York, living in the shadow of the Hollywood Hills had its compensations.

Someone knocked on his door and he cursed, he wasn't going to get away early today.

"Come in," he called, not looking up at his visitor. "You have five minutes then I'm shutting up shop, so talk quickly."

"Nice to see you too, J.T." the low, gravelly voice made the hair on his arms stand up.

"Looking good, J.T." the woman's voice added, purring through his ears like honey. He looked up.

For a moment he sat staring at his visitors, then he was up and out of his chair sending it clattering to the floor.

"Ohmygod...you're alive!"

Vincent found himself engulfed in a bear hug that threatened to crack a rib. Returning the hug he met Catherine's amused gaze over the top of J.T shaggy head. Catherine looked different too, hiding her usually straight dark hair under a curly honey blond wig.

J.T pulled back and looked at Vincent, his eyes suspiciously moist. "You look good for a dead man."

"I'm certainly looking better than I was. Is there somewhere we can talk?" Vincent indicated the foot traffic outside J.T's office. J.T nodded, his expression serious.

The apartment was small but warmly furnished, sunny and neat. The dining table was a mini research bench with several pieces of equipment and paperwork on it's surface. More manuals, files and paperwork was stacked on chairs and carpet, J.T moving it to make room for his friends to sit down.

"Would I be right in thinking that this isn't a social visit?" J.T asked, standing with his arms crossed.

"You need to know, J.T that Vincent has had his memory wiped. He has no memory beyond what I've told him and when he awoke three weeks ago." Catherine explained. J.T gaped for a second.

"Bastards They took everything?" he asked.

Vincent made a swiping motion over his head. "Clean slate. Catherine has told me some incredible background stories, and you could fill in many of the blanks for me. But that's only a small part of why we're here."

Catherine then went on to give J.T an update of events since Vincent was found, ending with their reason for driving from one coast to the other. J.T stared at them both blankly for a moment then got up and opened a cupboard, producing a bottle of Jack which he poured into three glasses and handed one each to Catherine and Vincent. He raised his to give a toast.

"To the end of the world as we know it." He downed his in a single gulp.

Catherine and Vincent exchanged a look before sipping at theirs.

J.T sat down again. "So my choices are run or be shot. Not exactly how I hoped to end my tenure here."

"You know the organisation better than I do, what would you recommend?" Vincent asked, swirling the contents of his glass around.

"Run." J.T replied without hesitation. "Run and find the most obscure, forgotten backwater you can discover and hide out. I'd thought I left all my fake identities skills back in the Big Apple, maybe it's just as well I still have it all up here." He tapped his head. "Plus if we find somewhere suitable I can get back to work on the cure for you, I've had some interesting discoveries in the last year..."

"Why would I want a cure?" Vincent asked, obviously perplexed. Catherine met J.T's surprised look.

"I think you'll find that Vincent has had a few...um...upgrades since he was taken. He still has the same enhancements, but his control over them is greatly improved. His ability to heal is faster, his enhancement are more honed and specific than before and he's stronger and faster. They also tinkered with his blood somehow, the usual markers aren't there, at least according to the tests done while he was in hospital. Apart from his memory loss and regaining his weight which he lost when they dumped him in New York, Vincent is as he was before...only better." Her fond look when she turned to Vincent and his equally soft look back said all that needed to be said.

J.T got up and stood with his hands on his hips. "So the three amigos are back in the saddle, and to think I was just getting used to the stuff they pass off as coffee here."

It took him a couple of days to wrap up his affairs, citing a family emergency back east needing his immediate attendance as his excuse for leaving. He bought himself a converted Chevy four wheel drive van that was custom fitted like a camper-van. He argued, when the others looked at it with some scepticism, that it would allow them to get off road if needed, had a stoked engine and was a sweet deal. The inside looked like a retro-throwback to the seventies, but it was comfortable, had been well looked after by the previous owner and somehow fitted J.T. On the outside it looked reasonably inconspicuous, on the inside it was pimped out and ready for anything. Of course he would have preferred any colour interior other than crushed strawberry but nothing is ever perfect. Like Catherine he was able to pack and run in the minimum of time, his belongings strapped to a roof rack hastily installed on Catherine's pick up, a Ford F150, for that purpose. On the third day after Vincent and Catherine's arrival in California they were driving out again, heading north to Sacramento for their first leg. They found a riverside campground on the banks of the American River, the vehicles parked side by side near a barbecue pit.

Catherine stretched, glad to have stopped moving. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the stretch of water in front of her, the swirling currents creating gilded patterns, darting swifts snatching insects from the surface near where she walked along the bank-side. Jetties with wide pontoons held an assortments of boats, the water lapping against their sides and making them rock. It was an idyllic, peaceful scene and she soaked it up, enjoying the novelty, the view ever changing, always beautiful. When the sun finally set she returned to their makeshift camp, the fire burning merrily in the barbecue, the smell of cooking reminding her that she hadn't eaten in awhile. J.T had the back of his campervan open, a fold out table providing a platform to hold plates and other stuff, three fold out chairs waiting for occupants, one holding her coat. Pulling it on she went over to the pit and joined the boys. J.T was relating a long ago incident when he and Vincent were teenagers, just out of high school and flatting together, Vincent focused on becoming a doctor, his room-mate consumed with a passion for science. J.T delivered the punchline and Vincent laughed loudly, with no restraint. It was a sight Catherine hadn't ever seen before and she found herself starring unashamedly. Vincent saw her and reached out to pull her into their conversation, his arm wrapping around her waist while gesturing with the long handled tongs.

"J.T has been telling me a story of how one Halloween I dared him to paint himself blue and go to a party with me as a Smurf."

Catherine laughed. "What was the penalty you had to pay if he did?"

Vincent glanced over at J.T who was still grinning. "I had to run naked down a hospital corridor in full view of the nurses with only a stethoscope to hide my...er...modesty."

Catherine turned to J.T. "Did he have to pay?"

"Sure did. Screen caps from the security footage were pinned up on the staffroom noticeboard, until the department head of surgery ordered them taken down. Last I heard several were still doing the rounds of different nurses stations."

Vincent laughed again at J.T droll delivery, Catherine taking delight in seeing him so relaxed and happy. It somehow seemed right that the three of them be on the run together. The only one missing was Tess. Vincent announced the meat done to a turn, so she went to get the plates and they all sat down to enjoy the last of the sunset while street lamps went on around the city, the distant roar of traffic going over the bridge nearby a constant reminder of humanity on the move.

After the meal, they took turns making use of the campground facilities before sitting inside J.T's campervan to discuss their next move. There was a map of the states laid out on the table top and a kerosene lamp suspended from the ceiling to provide enough light to read by. The night air was chill, but Vincent had set a metal coffee pot in the embers of the barbecue fire to heat up water for a last drink before they went to bed. Once everyone had a steaming mug of cocoa or coffee they perused the map.

"We are here, which is only about four hours from the border with Oregon if we keep pushing north. We could reach Portland in a day, it's about nine hours away tops."

"Is there a reason we're going north rather than any other direction?" Catherine asked, wrapping her hands around her mug.

J.T rubbed his chin. "Well, let's see our options. The east coast is pretty much a bust, being within spitting distance of New York. The south is an option is you're thinking of crossing in to Mexico or heading down to South America, but I don't speak Spanish or Mexican, do you?"

Catherine shook her head. "And I suppose finding work would be harder. So what about some of the southern states, like Texas?"

J.T shuddered delicately. "Have you been watching the news lately? Tornado alley is positioned between the Rocky Mountains, all over the southern plains across to the Appalachian Mountains and pretty much all points south. Now I don't know about you, but I don't fancy living in a place where the weather is more dangerous than the people. And if you talk about the deep south, I don't function well in humidity and gators make me break out."

Catherine gave him an arched eyebrow. J.T responded by sticking his tongue out at her.

Vincent was staring at the map as well, his brown furrowed as he looked at the different areas.

"I suppose the west coast is probably a good idea. So what are we looking for? Somewhere to hide out? Somewhere we can be someone else and settle down? Are we looking for something permanent or temporary? Do we try and find a back water where no one would think to look? Or lose ourselves in a city with safety in numbers?"

J.T pulled out his lap top and placed it on the table. "I think this is a good time to employ the ultimate search engine. Google."

The screen illuminated his face and reflected off his glasses. He'd taken out the contacts and returned to using his specs while they were on the road, citing them as more comfortable and easier to use.

"Personally I don't care where we end up." Catherine announced. "I just want to be invisible, and off Muirfield's radar. You both managed to achieve that for nearly ten years, can't we find somewhere to do that again?"

"How careful have you been checking for bugs or trackers?" J.T asked.

"As careful as you, I imagine. We're clean." Catherine replied.

"Then how did the man in black find you?" J.T retorted.

Catherine frowned. "I don't know, but I wasn't trying to hide. A simple search of property sales would bring up my location, I suppose."

"Then we have to be doubly careful from now on. I would vote for a medium sized population centre with good services and multiple options for work for all of us."

"We could have stayed in California for that, and it would have been warmer." said Catherine, downing the last of her hot drink.

J.T snorted. "California has a paparazzi on every corner and two in every shop. Given the quantity of photos taken, not to mention video footage from security cameras and tourists, it would take barely an hour to search through the entire population using facial recognition software. Nope, California is too snap-happy to stay hidden in for long."

"So what are you thinking?" Vincent asked, seeing J.T frowning down at his screen.

"Ellensburg."

"Ellensburg? Never heard of it." Catherine said, glancing at Vincent.

"Good. Then maybe the men in black won't think of it either." he turned the screen around to show them images of the place and information.

"Hmmm wouldn't have anything to do with having the Washington State University at its heart?" Vincent observed, meeting J.T's innocent look.

"Maybe, but it has other things going for it. The population isn't huge, it's pretty rural but has everything we'd need without being too flashy. Might even find another abandoned factory to make over."

Catherine was poring over the information, looking for both flaws and incentives. "They have a hospital and all the usual amenities..only about eighteen and a half thousand people, give or take."

"Enough to get lost in." J.T observed. "Anyone looking would expect us to hide in a bigger center, or go over the border to Canada. I know I would."

The three friends looked at each other, then Catherine drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Ellensburg it is, then."

They separated shortly after, J.T left to rearrange his furniture to produce a bed, while Catherine and Vincent climbed into the back of their pick up, the canopy providing a cosy, if low roofed bedroom with it's mattress placed on top of belongings, zipped together sleeping bags and spare blankets for pillows. Tired but not ready for sleep, Catherine lay draped over Vincent's chest while he played with strands of her hair, sifting his fingers repeatedly through the silky mass.

Both were still fully dressed, the temperature inside barely above the one outside.

"You know J.T better than I do, why do you think he was so quick to give up all he had to come with us?" Vincent asked, his voice rumbling in Catherine's ear pressed to his chest.

"I think it was several reasons. I know he took you abduction badly, he was convinced you wouldn't last the night and I think he blamed himself, at least as much as he blamed me. We went our separate ways without really talking about what losing you meant to each of us. Tess tried to hold us together but both J.T and I were sure you were dead. I think it broke his heard a little to lose you like that. He worked so hard, sacrificed so much to keep you safe. The pair of you worked for years to find a cure and he told me once you went through some very dark times dealing with the fact that you were what you were and it was never going to change. I think that was why he hated me at the start..."

"Because you changed everything?"

"Yeah. I walked in and suddenly you wanted to have a life again, to be part of the world where before you only had each other. He was your one and only friend and he was angry at what he thought I was doing; putting you at risk."

"And did you?" Vincent asked.

"Put you at risk? In a way, I suppose you did, but it was never intentional, and I was able to help as well by making sure any evidence was mislaid or destroyed. If it ever came to light just what I did I'd be even more of a fugitive from the law than you from Muirfield. It almost cost me Tess's friendship, much like my coming caused conflict between you and J.T."

"But he was pleased to see me." Vincent stated. "And now he's given up his life in Los Angeles to hide out with us."

"Maybe he was lonely. It's hard when you can't talk to people because you're trying to be someone else, or have to lie about your past to keep yourself safe. He was just starting to have a relationship with another faculty member when you were snatched. He left that behind as well when he moved to the west coast."

They fell silent after that, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. Catherine listened to the steady thump of Vincent's heart, the sound soothing and familiar. Eventually Vincent was the first to speak.

"What do you want for the future?"

Catherine lifted her head and twisted to look up into his face. In the semi-gloom it was all in shadow, the faintest gleam where his eyes stared back at her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because we are talking about staying in one place for some time, of creating new lives for ourselves, of becoming different people..."

Catherine tapped him on his chest with her finger. "Not different people, just different names, maybe different jobs. We don't change, not who we are."

"But what will it mean? What do you expect to happen?"

"I don't know. I suppose it will be different and awkward and we'll be looking sideways at everyone for bit, but I've already had to go through this so many times I'm not worried by all the change. I just want to be with you, somewhere we can close the door once in awhile and feel safe, where we can live together and be somewhere close to a normal couple."  
"Beauty and the Beast."

"Catherine and Vincent, or whatever names we finally call ourselves. Just us, together. That's the only future I want." She stretched up to kiss him, their lips meeting lightly, clinging then parting.

Catherine settled once more against his side. The sound of his heartbeat lulling her to sleep, while Vincent lay listening to her breathing, his thoughts running round and around inside his head giving him no respite.


	8. Chapter 8

They reached Ellensburg twelve hours later after an early start, rain greeting them when they arrived at the outskirts of the small university city. They had already found a small camp ground that offered a temporary home until they could find somewhere permanent. Catherine went back to donning her honey blond wig and wearing heels to give her height, and J.T started wearing his contacts. Vincent couldn't do much to disguise his height or physique but let his whiskers grow enough to shape them around his jaw and mouth, his longer hair now swept across his forehead to his brows and brushed his collar with concealer make-up making his scar all but invisible except on close scrutiny. Catherine teased him that he looked like one of the characters from a super hero show she'd enjoyed as a teen, while J.T retorted he looked more like Wolverine without a cigar. Both references were lost on Vincent, but he took the teasing with good humour.

Ellensburg was a pretty city with trees and beautiful historic buildings surrounded by distant but expansive views of the Cascades dominated by Mount Rainier, an ever present snowy peak to the west. As they drove around Catherine felt more and more as if she'd come to the town she'd always pictured her and Vincent living in, before he'd been taken away and the dreams shattered. Here the people went about their lives in relative peace, uncrowded and without the fear of a big city, the crime rate reflecting this with violent offences barely one a month and murder virtually unknown. For a New Yorker this was paradise, with no areas to avoid or worries about being molested, where you could walk at night and not fear for your life.

With the Central Washington University at its heart, there was a high percentage of students and young families visible, going about their lives, all with a future, all without a threat hanging over their heads. Catherine wanted that so much she could almost taste it. As they explored more of the city and its surroundings she felt more and more that here was a real chance of a new start for them all.

They dropped J.T off at the main building of the university so he could investigate if there were any opening for him to apply for while Vincent and Catherine went on to look for somewhere to live. Catherine would have liked to have looked at houses to buy but she kept that to herself, only asking to look at rental properties when they approached the local real estate agents. The choices were limited, with barely thirty properties to look at, but some were simple to weed out, by their size, while others were too prominent in their location, although Catherine did wonder if J.T wouldn't have liked the old building up for rent that used to be the local lodge, crammed full of historic features and odd room, reminiscent of the last building they'd occupied in New York. Here there was no abandoned buildings or old factories, only new business parks and brand new offices for lease. One house seemed almost too picturesque to be believed, bordering on the log cabin aesthetic and surrounded by vast expanses of nothing but low rolling hills and mountain views. She was tempted for a second but the thought of being so far from town, despite the obvious defensive advantages, with no cell or internet access scotched that one right away. Mental visions of her and Vincent snowed in, before a roaring fire only reminded her of Alex and the cosy cabin she and Vincent had gone to, an image she really didn't want to revisit.

In the end they found somewhere quiet, in town but off the main drag, with space and privacy and all the mod-cons. The real estate agent was happy to have such eager tenants, even more so when they produced cash up front without demure, and happy to keep the furniture supplied with the property while keen to move in at once.

The move was arranged for the day after next, the agent promising to organise the utilities to be connected again as well as a cleaning crew to freshen the place up, given it had been on the market for some time and was musty from disuse.

Vincent put his arm around Catherine and surveyed what would be their new accommodation for the foreseeable future.

"What do you think? Will J.T like it?"

"Well, it's not a dirty old abandoned factory, or an empty, echoing palace nor yet a Malibu apartments but I think it'll do." Catherine smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. "The rent is affordable, we have furniture and a little shopping will fit this place out very comfortably. I like it."

"Then I do too." He turned to face her, looping his arms around her back to hold her close. "I think I like it even more thinking of us sleeping in that big 'ol bed, just the two of us."

Catherine giggled. "It is rather a monstrosity, but you can't fault if for its size."

Vincent smiled down at her happy face. "I'll have to organise a search party to find you in that thing. I wonder if it sags in the middle?"

"I don't care." Catherine reached up and kissed him, Vincent following her lips when they parted, pulling her in close and deepening the embrace, one hand holding the back of her head while the other caressed her bottom and pressed her firmly against his own quickening reaction. Catherine ground herself against him unashamedly, loving the feel of his hardness through his jeans, her breasts flattened against his chest, nipples hard and aching. Her hands were busy too, one delving down the back of his jeans and up under his shirt to stroke the hot skin of his back while the other dug furrows through his hair before settling at his nape and fondling the back of his neck. It could have ended up with a hasty make out session on the floor if the estate agent hadn't returned with the paperwork and interrupted them, clearing her throat several times to gain their attention.

"I'm sorry, I just need you to fill these out and once the references are checked we're all good to go."

Catherine and Vincent exchanged a hasty look.

"We don't have any references." Catherine told her. "We sold up everything and moved out here, so we haven't rented before, is that a problem?"

The estate agents made a snap decision based more on gut feeling and experience than the letter of the law. She had a bird in the hand for a property that had proved almost impossible to rent, they had paid up front and seemed a nice couple very much in love. "No, I don't see a problem with that. Just fill in everything else and that should suffice. Are you planning on staying here long term?"

Catherine answered. "For as long as we can. I've liked what I've seen so far, and everyone has been so nice. I imagine we'll be looking at buying before too long."

Seeing a future commission on a house sale the real estate agent smiled widely. "I hope you'll give me a call if you see anything you might think suitable. Here's my card."

Vincent took is and glanced at the name. "Thank you, Carmen, you've been most helpful." He laid on the charm and the woman visibly melted. A few seconds later she was shaking his hand and waving them both goodbye thinking him a charming man and Catherine a pretty, if a bit slutty woman with great taste in men.

They drove across town, collecting J.T on the way back to the camp ground. With their future accommodation sorted, they decided to explore the night life of downtown Ellensburg. There were crowds of students on the side-walks alongside the older crowd, the bars and restaurants looking to be doing a good trade despite it being a Thursday night. Advertising for the latest movies crowded for place alongside local live bands, food festivals and local community events. They finally chose a lively wine bar off the mainstreet that provided tasty pizzas along with a great atmosphere.

Afterwards they strolled back to the main street and looked in shop windows, avoided several groups of drunk but happy students, watched the local police cruise by several times before returning to the pick up and driving home.

For Catherine it was a poignant reminder of how normal people enjoyed their lives, went out with their friends, had a good night out just because they could. Sitting beside Vincent while he drove them back to the camp ground she hoped that all their efforts to escape notice worked and Muirfield gave up trying to find them.

The real estate agent was as good as her word and the apartment was fresh and clean when they moved in. Catherine, with Vincent and J.T. , unloaded their meager possession into their new home, J.T happy to have two of the three bedrooms for his exclusive use, the third so enormous with its giant sized bed, happily containing all that Vincent and Catherine possessed, with room to spare.

With her bed linen woefully inadequate to cover the expanse of the mattress a quick shopping spree was undertaken for sheets, new pillows, king-size bed covers and other assorted miscellaneous items. The kitchen boasted two fridges so J.T was able to commandeer one for his food, and later for his experiments while Vincent and Catherine stocked up theirs, along with the cupboards and all the ephemera of every day living. They still made sure that they could pack in a instant if required but for all intents and purposes they were there to stay for as long as possible.

For their first night they cooked a celebratory meal to christen their new crockery, and that night Vincent and Catherine also christened the new bed linen.

Vincent emerged from the en-suite still rubbing his head to dry his hair, a towel wrapped low on his hips. When he emerged from the towel he looked across at the bed and paused in his advance into the room. Catherine lay on her side facing him, in the middle of the bed, the covers pulled back while she wore a wisp of something silky for a nightdress, the material so sheer her nipples were clearly visible.

"Switch off the light," she commanded, giving him a sultry look. Vincent did as asked then turned back to face her. The room was now lit by the flickering flames of the fire, the designer of the bedroom obviously having a romantic as well as practical streak. Catherine was now bathed in golden light, her skin glowing and shadows highlighting the dips and hollows of her body. She slowly drew one leg upwards against the other, her eyes having never stopped their appreciation of his body.

"What are you waiting for?" she purred, her hand patting the bed.

Vincent flicked his eyes down to the towel around his hips, then flicked them up to meet her dark eyes, arching a dark eyebrow as he pulled the towel away, dropping it to the floor to reveal just how appreciative he was of the seductive scene. With a measured pace he approached the bottom of the bed, the fire now glowing behind him, outlining his body in gold. His face was in shadow but Catherine saw his eyes catch fire and glow hotly, making her gasp in anticipation. Vincent growled, the rumbling sound sending delicious shivers up her limbs, her lips parting to draw in a much needed breath as she watched Vincent climb onto the bed on his hands and knees and slowly advance on her like a sleek black panther gilded by firelight.

Catherine lay back on the pillows as he bracketed her body with his arms, his head lowering to nuzzle at her body, rubbing his head against her abdomen, his teeth worrying the scrap of silk and working it up her legs and above her waist to expose her fully. Catherine turned on to her back and parted her thighs, Vincent's dark head lowering to take advantage of her trust, his talented mouth making her writhe and moan her appreciation of his skills. He didn't stop until she shuddered against his mouth, flooding his tongue with her essence which he lapped up before lifting his head to look up the length of her body and meet her slumberous gaze. Never breaking that connection he made his way further up the bed, licking his lips until he was cradled by her body and seated fully inside her, hissing at the tight fit for his engorged flesh, Catherine reaching up with her hands to touch his face and draw him down to her, her legs lifting to encase his hips as he moved with long, slow strokes, his hands braced either side of her body. He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his own, tongues tangling and mimicking the movement of his pelvis as he filled her again and again. It ended all too soon with Vincent lifting his head and arching his back with one final thrust, melded so completely with his lover that neither knew where one ended and the other began. Satiated, he lowered himself to the side but didn't pull out Catherine moving with him so they lay facing each other, Vincent's eyes no longer a fiery gold but back to normal, half closed as he panted in the aftermath.

Catherine traced her fingers over his face, light and soothing, bringing him back to earth, her own eyes catching a glitter from the fire, her lips pulled up into a loving, well satisfied smile.

"You are a beautiful man," she breathed, her hand moving lightly over his shoulders and chest.

"And you are a delicious woman," Vincent replied, running his tongue over his lips to catch the flavour of her again.

Catherine's smile broadened. "Well, if we're going to be specific, I do love what you do down there."

"I noticed," Vincent replied, grinning back. "You're a feast and I'm always hungry."

"Beast..." Catherine whispered.

"Beauty..." he whispered back, moving forward to capture her lips for a sweet kiss.

He moved and slipped out of her body, Catherine giving a mew of disappointment at the loss.

"Give me a moment to recover, my insatiable lioness, and I'll turn that into a moan again." Vincent teased, wrapping his arm about her shoulders as she snuggled into his side, her arm over his chest.

Catherine lightly thumped him in protest.

They lay together watching the firelight make strange patterns on the ceiling, the light slowly dying as the embers burn to ash. At length Vincent dozed, but awoke sometime later when a hand reached under the covers and wrapped around his cock, stroking up and down and quickly bringing him back to full attention. Catherine leaned over him and smiled, her eyes dancing. "My turn."

While he lay on his back, Catherine started to kiss her way down his body, her lips finding his flat nipples and suckling them to tingling peaks, his growl of appreciation urging her onwards, her hair caressing him as her mouth danced over his torso, her hand never leaving his rigid cock as she worked her way over his taught flesh, dipping into his naval and lower still. Vincent pushed his head deep into the pillows and opened his mouth when hers slipped hot and wet over the end of his straining flesh, her tongue flickering against his length as she encased him between her lips and softly sucked, pulling the skin gently and teasing with her tongue.

He strained to stay still, wanting nothing more than to thrust upwards into that hot sweetness, her hair tickling his thighs while her hand gently cupped his balls and stroked between his legs making him jerk and twitch in her mouth as she worked him to a fever pitch.

Unable to bear the torment any more he pulled her away from his body, growling his appreciation.

"On all fours." He was the one to command this time. Catherine giving him a wicked look before doing as asked, looking over her shoulder at him as he positioned himself behind her, rubbing his cock against her body for a second before plunging deep, both of them letting out a sigh of satisfaction to be joined once more. This was never going to be a leisurely second round, Vincent too close to his peak to indulge in finesse while Catherine reveled in his hard grip on her hips and forceful ravishment of her body. The room echoed to their shared moans, the bed absorbing their movements, the dying light of the fire giving flesh a soft glow, the wisp of silk like a gossamer wing, pushed up and out of the way as Vincent arched over her and nipped at her back, his hands cupping her breasts beneath. A last forceful push and he was shuddering his completion, filling her completely, his fingers needing only to give her a little encouragement to have her quaking her own climax, pulsating around him even as he expelled his last with a final thrust. Catherine collapsed against the sheets, Vincent following her down to cover her like a blanket, the lovers still joined but both very satisfied by the outcome.

Sometime later they lay curled up in the center of the enormous bed, the covers pulled up high, Vincent spooned behind Catherine, his arm around her middle to hold her against him, his nose buried in her hair.

"I love how you smell," he whispered, breathing deeply, his hand spread over her abdomen in a possessive and tender gesture. "And how you taste, and how you feel."

Catherine purred, her own hand covering his.

"I'm so happy," she breathed. "I never imagined I could ever be this happy again. I love you, Vincent, so very much."

"Not as much as I love you," he replied, nuzzling her briefly.

"Promise this will never change between us?"

"I promise."

Catherine smiled even as sleep started to creep over her. It was a silly thing to ask anyone, to promise anything, but it gave her immeasurable comfort to hear him say it, despite how stupid it was to ask in the first place.


	9. Chapter 9

J.T wandered in to the kitchen the next morning and dropped a journal on the bench with a loud thump. Both Catherine and Vincent looked up from their breakfast to survey their unusually severe looking friend.

"What is it, J.T?" Vincent asked.

"Since you've been gone, I carried on with my research into the corrupted dna and cross-species science that I published that paper on, only I've taken it a step further. We never found a cure all those years we were looking, but that didn't mean there wasn't one out there. Talking to Gabe's girlfriend got me thinking and I think I have a good idea how to stop your evolution dead in its tracks." J.T paused and took his glasses off to clean them on his night shirt. "I once told you, not that you'd remember, that it was possible that Gabe's drugs, the ones that were killing him, could cure you for good. Then Catherine injected you with that virus and you were back to where you were, according to what Tyler told us before they killed her."

"Where is this leading, J.T?" Catherine asked warily. "She said that once his immune system was activated there was no going back."

"And she was right." J.T retorted swiftly. "But she was talking about a full reversal, of returning Vincent back to fully human. I'm putting forward the theory that I can, if not cure, can at least stop any further progression of his evolution. I'll need to run further tests, but I think the reason Muirfield sent Vincent back was because they couldn't find a way to reverse the process completely. They think Vincent is still evolving and it can't be stopped."

"Evolving in to what?" Vincent asked.

J.T shrugged. "I'm guessing into whichever animal they spliced your dna with. Could be a big cat, or wolf or bear, I never looked at that side of it. I was always looking for a way to control it, but it's obvious that it can't be controlled, but maybe it can be limited."

"Have you never isolated the origins of his corrupted dna?" Catherine asked. "Surely that would be the first thing you looked at."

J.T shook his head. "We were so focused on finding an overall cure we only ever looked at the end result, not the process itself or its original source. Your mothers journals were somewhat helpful in that regard. They tended to use dna that was already genetically altered to make it compatible to mix with the human strain, but depending on the animal it had mild to severe side effects. I was able to download Gabe's research before I trash his loft, and those journals were helpful to a point but none pinpointed what had been spliced with Vincent's dna specifically."

"So what do you want to do now?" Vincent asked. "You know they messed with me, I had track lines in my arms, and they somehow, chemically I'm assuming, wiped my memory of everything in my past. If it wasn't for Catherine and you I'd have gone crazy not knowing anything other than the basics."

"Yeah, that's a curly one. Research to date only has the ability to wipe recent memories or dull the ability to remember traumas, not a persons entire life as they did with you. And yet you can still function, speak, read and if your dreams are to be believed the memories are not gone at all but simply repressed, waiting for a key to unlock them. How they did that is a mystery." J.T rubbed at the bridge of his nose and yawned widely. "I'm proposing we look at stopping any further progression of your evolution, which would mean not curing you of those enhancements you already have, just stopping any further from developing."

J. T fell silent to allow his audience to digest what he'd said. Catherine rubbed her hand up and down Vincent's arm, needing to touch him as they considered the implications of J.T's information.

She turned to face J.T. "What are the risks? The drugs Gabe used were ultimately fatal."

"I won't be using the same combination, and we'll have to test differing dosage but it's a chance, one that Vincent will have to consider. Given how much he has evolved already, does he want to just wait and see how much more of his humanity is going to be taken over?"

Catherine bit her lip and turned to Vincent who'd been listening but saying nothing. "No one can make the decision for you. Nothing changes between us."

Vincent looked at her briefly before turning to face J.T. "What would you need from me?"

"Blood, tissue samples, maybe even some bone marrow. I have to do a full work up of your current state, try and find out what they did to you when they took you away, maybe even find out what they used on you to wipe your memory. It will take time but I'll have access to the University resources."

"You will? How did you manage that?" Catherine asked. "Have they given you a job already?"

"Yes, as a guest lecturer and assistant to the Biochemistry head of department. His usual assistant has just gone on maternity leave, so for the next six months I'm her replacement." J. T pulled a name tag out of his shirt pocket and dangled it back and forth. "Starting tomorrow."

They adjusted to small city life with surprising ease. J.T was in his element at the University, doing a fair impersonation of Jekyll and Hyde, by day a mild mannered biochemistry professor answering questions and marking papers, at night the secretive scientist beavering away in one of the labs, making use of their state of the art diagnostic equipment to analyse and study Vincent's blood and tissue samples. He wrote everything longhand in a journal, or occasionally on an off-line internet disabled laptop, not storing anything on the university server but always backing up his night's work on a pen drive to take with him. Nothing was saved elsewhere and no digital trace left to tie him in with the University network. J.T didn't trust the computers and wouldn't go online for any reason in case he accidentally sent up a red flare alerting Muirfield, not even for research. If Muirfield, by some miracle, had managed to track him to Los Angeles, the digital trail would be stone cold from there on. He wasn't on any of the social media sites, and avoided any and all faculty photo opportunities. None of them had cell phones or used the public phone network in case Muirfield tried to track them by voice recognition and they continued to use their disguises in case the security cameras around the city were tapped into with facial recognition software. Credit cards were disposed of, debit cards for use in the money machines the only technology they used, and that only from a new account set up the week they moved to Ellensburg, containing the cash they'd brought with them, J.T had stipulated that his wages be paid in cash and had already created, back before he left Los Angeles, fake social security and other documents necessary for himself, Catherine and Vincent in the names of their new identities. There was nothing left to chance, no paper trail that could lead anyone to their new location and no technology that could be used to track them by most known recognition software. If Muirfield wanted to find them they'd have to scour every possible town, city and whistle stop on the map of the United States on foot.

Their need for anonymity also meant they largely had to keep to themselves, only interacting on the most shallow level with the population around them. Their rental agent, after an initial contact and follow up to check that everything was okay, was never called. They dealt only in cash or used the debit card, they were pleasant and unassuming and thoroughly forgettable. They dressed to be unnoticed and worked at not standing out. For all intents an purposes they were invisible. If anyone who met them was asked what they were like, the answer would probably be that they were quiet, nice people that had moved to Ellensburg from somewhere out East. Other than that, nothing more was known about them. Only when the door was closed and the outside world shut out did the disguises come off and they could be themselves.

Catherine felt drained and listless, glad to pull off the wig that itched when she got hot and made her look sallow and a stranger when she looked in the mirror. Of the three she was the only one to have to go to these extremes, the one time they tried a wig on Vincent he looked so ridiculous they all fell about laughing and it was thrown in the trash. Instead he had opted to shave his hair almost army standard short, keeping his jaw hugging beard and taking to wearing a cowboy hat most days.

Catherine was reminded of his army photo she'd seen at the Orchard secret location when Gabe had wanted to download Muirfield's files and she and Vincent had destroyed the place instead. Now he looked like any other farm hand or rodeo wannabe, his sheepskin jacket and cowboy boots adding to the illusion.

Flopping on the sofa, Catherine propped her feet up on the coffee table and put her head back, closing her eyes. Vincent had gone to the University to meet up with J.T, while Catherine had the mundane task of the weekly shop, the bags of groceries sitting abandoned for the time being on the kitchen bench. It was a hot night, the fine spring dissolving into the promise of a hot summer, her face feeling sticky as she tried to drum up the enthusiasm to go and put the shopping away. While she sat there in a semi-doze, she wondered if she was coming down with something, her head swimming, and there was that moment at the market when she lifted a melon to her nose to sniff it's tropical perfume only to feel a spurt of extreme nausea as if the melon was rotten or worse. As she usually loved the fruit, she was at a loss as to why it would turn her up. On that puzzling thought she dozed off, only to be startled awake an hour later when Vincent softly ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.

"Hey, sleepy head, you okay?"

Catherine blinked up at him. "Mmmm sure...yeah...I must have dozed off." She peered owlishly over towards to the kitchen but the bags were gone.

"I already put the stuff away. You were sleeping so peacefully when we got back."

Catherine sat up feeling, if anything, more tired than before. "I didn't hear you come in." She frowned. "I think I must be coming down with something, I feel so tired."

Vincent took in her wan face and bent down to lift her in his arms, Catherine only putting up a token protest as his high-handedness. He carried her to their room and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

"I go fix something for us to eat while you get comfortable. Maybe it's a summer cold or something."

"Probably," Catherine murmured in reply, starting to peel of her clothes down to her underwear and getting under the covers, falling back asleep almost at once, which was how Vincent found her half an hour later. He gently felt her forehead for any sign of a temperature, but she seemed fine, just sleeping. Puzzled but not unduly worried he went to see J.T who was sitting at a table surrounded by open books and scribbling into a journal.

"How's the arm?" J.T asked.

Vincent pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a white bandage on his forearm. "Fine. Catherine seems to be coming down with something, she's asleep already."

J.T shrugged. "Probably this heat," he suggested, not really paying much attention. "Here, look at this." He held out a thin sheet of plastic with lines and black patches on it. "This is the dna test I did back in New York, and this is the one I did this week."

Vincent lay the one on top of the other noticing that not all the black squares lined up. "Care to explain the differences?"

J.T shook his head. "Not yet, I want to do more tests first. The dna is still mutating but only in specific strands. What that means as far as your evolution I don't know right now."

"As long as I'm not going to turn into a female clown fish," Vincent threw out, J.T reacting as if a bee had just stung him.  
"What did you say?"

"Um...as long as I don't..."

"Turn into a female clown fish." J.T finished. "Why did you say that?"

Vincent shrugged. "I don't know, it just sort of..." He stopped. "Why? What did I say?"

"Someone I said to you nearly two years ago. We were having this conversation about your dna changing and evolving and I said something about you changing into a female clown fish. You know what this mean?" J.T looked excited.

"No?" Vincent looked perplexed, giving J.T a crooked smile.

"It means your memories are starting to bleed through whatever blocking thing they did to you. It means you may get your memory back after all, even the time you spent at Muirfield." J.T was almost hopping up and down.

"Given the state I was in when Catherine found me, I'm not sure I want to remember."

"But think, there must be something important in those memories for them to go to the trouble of wiping them. Maybe even a way to defeat them, or knock them back enough to leave us alone." J.T spluttered in his haste to get the words out in his excitement.

Vincent shrugged. "As you've frequently told me, if they're still in there, they'll find a way out. Seems they are doing that already." He held up the plastic sheets again. "You were going to tell me about these?"

"As I said, I don't know what they indicate specifically, but whatever they do they've already happened, or are ongoing. Apart from the night vision, hearing, super smell, glowing eyes, fast reflexes, claws and beasting out, is there anything else you've noticed?"

Vincent gave a short laugh. "You don't think that list is long enough?"

J.T huffed and crossed his arms. "Think. Has there been anything else that seemed strange or extraordinary lately?"

Vincent furrowed his brow. "Well, it's hard to know what's usual or not, but there was this one incident, when we were out this week."

"Go on..."

He laughed. "You're going to think I'm making this up."

J.T rolled his eyes. "I'm not. What happened?"

"Okay, well we were walking and this woman jogged past us, stopped, came back and told me I smelled wonderful." Vincent shrugged again. "It was crazy, she looked at me and I swear to God she licked her lips. Catherine was right there beside me and this lady looked like she wanted to eat me up." He looked down and shuffled his feet. "I swear I didn't do a thing, and you know I don't wear all that metro-whatchamacallit crap. Catherine nearly had a fit. Anyway after a second or two the woman carried on jogging as if nothing had happened."

His friend stared at him, mouth open, then suddenly sat back and gave a whoop of laughter. Vincent glared at him but there was no stopping him. After a few minutes J.T composed himself and turned to the stack of books that seemed to be permanently at his elbow. Picking one he flipped the pages while Vincent looked on, frowning. At length J.T turned the book around and pointed to a passage for his friend to read. "Here, this might explain it."

Vincent read the passage, then handed the book back. "I wasn't peeing on the ground at the time."

J.T smiled. "I don't imagine you were, but there are theories that unlike other mammals we don't need to pee on everything in sight to make an impression with our pheromones. For years the perfume industries has been trying to replicate pheromones as sexual attractants, even inventing deodorants to mask or change our natural smell, telling us for years that it's unnatural or antisocial, dulling our senses to what our bodies are trying to tell us, that smell is as important as sight and taste in choosing our biological mate. It was shown in a study once, and admittedly it wasn't done as more than a show and tell, where they got twenty women to wear a t-shirt for a few days, no perfumes or deodorants were allowed. Then those same t-shirts were put into containers and labelled anonymously. Then they did a genetic test to see which of the women and men in the test would be biologically better paired. Finally they did the sniff test, and it proved that the men, after rating the different t-shirt for liking or disliking the smell, were matched with the woman in the same way as already figured out using dna. I know that sounds clunky, but the result was that smell has as much to do with human biological breeding imperative as anything else. I think that in your case your pheromone production is probably off the charts, making you exceedingly attractive to any woman looking to breed." J.T looked revoltingly smug. "You're a walking advertisement for sex. If we could bottle that it would make us a fortune."

Vincent scowled at his friends levity. "This is not funny, J.T. I can't have women jumping me just because I smell...er...good. And what about Catherine? How do I tell her...hey, honey, sorry but I'm a walking sex god and I have to breed with all these women, it's my biological imperative!"

J.T grinned at him. "Well, it's more the women have to breed, not you. But I get your point. I don't know, maybe shower every hour or so?"

"Funny, J.T very funny."

"Look, it will only affect those women who are your biological match, so not everyone is going to be affected, maybe only a very few in fact."

"How few!?"

J.T shrugged. "I don't know. Without testing the dna of all the woman in the town, there's no way of knowing how many are a match."

"Great, just great."

"Just try not to get too hot and bothered, that tends to make scent carry further and be more...umm...pungent." J.T suggested, trying to suppress his grin.

Vincent pointed to the other black blocks not matching up. "That doesn't account for theses others?"

"Nope. I guess we'll have to wait and see what develops...er excuse the pun." He held up his hands in mock surrender when his companion glared at him.

Later, when Vincent got in to bed beside his sleeping lover, he inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of warm, sweet woman into his lungs, careful not to wake her when he wrapper her in his arms, her body relaxed and soft against him. If he smelt good to her, she was like the most perfect perfume for him, Catherine being a rarity and not drowning herself in cloying sprays or heavily perfumed shampoo or body wash, so that the essence of her still existed, an essence he never got tired of or had enough of to entirely satisfy him. She even tasted good, the tip of his tongue tasting the sweet flesh of her exposed shoulder, his lips kissing the velvety skin. His body agreed and rapidly hardened against her bottom, nestling against the silky underwear that provided an erotic friction against his heated cock. He swore under his breath, not wanting to wake her, but his body had no such compulsion, straining to ride the wave of sexual awareness that her very presence seemed to provoke in him. The heat between them was always there, simmering beneath the surface, only held in check by sheer willpower and lack of opportunity. Usually he had no problem controlling his sexual urges, but for whatever reason, maybe all the talk about pheromones and animal attraction had planted the idea, but tonight he was too far gone to stop himself from slowly rubbing his hot length against the scrap of lingerie preventing him sinking deep inside his lover's body. He rocked them both, but Catherine remained deeply asleep, supine and passive, her slender frame undulating as he brought himself to climax while barely touching her, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, teeth gritted as his body trembled and shook, a flush painting his cheeks and neck while he fought to slow his breathing and lower his heart rate again. Spent in more ways than one, he pressed an apologetic kiss to Catherine's cheek before letting her go and laying on his back, both mortified and strangely at peace, slipping easily into sleep listening to Catherine breathing beside him.


	10. Chapter 10

Catherine was still lethargic the following day, turning her nose up at her usual morning coffee, Vincent once more touching her forehead to feel for signs of illness, but finding nothing to account for the sudden strange behaviour.

"I'm just tired," Catherine waved him away, making herself a weak tea instead. From what Vincent could see she barely waved the t-bag over the cup before discarding it, leaving her with a cup of hot water and little else.

"Do you feel sick? Nauseous? Dizzy?" Vincent asked, peering at her closely. "You look pale."

"Vincent!" Catherine rebuked him sharply. "Don't fuss, I'm fine, just a little weary. It's probably coming up to my time of the month, so don't play doctor on me, okay?"

Vincent held up his hands and backed off. Whatever was putting Catherine out of sorts, he would wait and see what developed.

A few days later J.T arrived at the flat looking like he was about to burst with news. Catherine had been watching the latest news bulletin but switched it off and sat up.

"What is it, J.T?"

"I managed to synthesize the drug Gabe was using to stop himself from beasting out, the same one that was starting to reverse Vincent's symptoms..."

"Before I injected him."Catherine interrupted. "So?"

"So, I found a way to keep it stable enough to load into a dart to use in the tranquiiser gun. If any beasty boys come after us we can use it on them and it will render them not only unconscious but take away their beasty powers as well." He held out his hands in a silent "Ta da".

Catherine looked unimpressed. "That's great, J.T. Now we just have to invent a gun fast enough to hit them. You didn't see how Gabe managed to literally dodge bullets when Vincent fired at him. It they are as fast as he was, then no gun is proof against them."

"Maybe not, but if they're focused on the gun being waved at them, they won't see the dart coming at them from the side, will they! It's like that scene from Jurassic Park, when the predator lures the hunter into the trees then attacks from the side. Wham!"

Catherine got up and brushed past him. "Fine, whatever."

"That's it? Fine, whatever?" J.T called after her. Catherine just lifted a hand and waved dismissively. Scowling, J.T stomped off to his rooms, his euphoria well and truly gone.

Catherine stood looking out of the kitchen window, staring at nothing, her attention all inwards.

She was feeling unsettled and restless, scratchy and irritated all the time. J.T hasn't really done anything wrong, in fact his news about the darts was great, a useful addition to their meager arsenal. She just couldn't seem to find her equilibrium any more. Part of her frustration stemmed from having not made love in a nearly a week, largely because when she went to bed she just slept so deeply nothing woke her. It was like she couldn't bear to be in her own skin any more, everything from smells and tastes to little habits and quirks that would normally never bother her were now magnified a thousand fold, enough to send her screaming up the walls. Her skin itched, her hair annoyed her, her body seemed to be raging a losing battle against something but she didn't feel sick, just damn tired all the time. Even Vincent's care and concern was starting to wear on her nerves to the point she had snapped at him and told him to fuck off after his aborted attempt to ask her how she was broke her tenuous control on her temper, which, of course, only made him worry all the more. Catherine ground her teeth and scowled at her reflection in the glass. She felt so out of control she was almost scared of herself, of what she would do next. It was like standing on a precipice with your mind telling you to draw back, but your body urging you to take that final step and leap into space. Sure it would be a long drop with a short stop, but the journey would be exhilarating. Something touched her arm and she spun around, teeth bared, her hand swinging up, nails curled to gouge a series of stripes across Vincent face. He reared back, not quick enough to avoid the swing, taken by surprise at her reaction.

Catherine stared at him equally shocked, her wide eyes tracking the blood welling in the scratch lines and dripping down his face.

"Vincent...I'm sorry, I don't know...your face!" She made to reach out but he stepped back to put some distance between them. Seeing his expression, a mixture of shock and wariness, she also stepped back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth even as tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me..." Darting around him she raced for the hallway, the door of their bedroom slamming shut seconds later.

Vincent stood there for a moment, then turned to find a paper towel to mop up the gore. J.T had heard the door slam and appeared, stopping in his tracks on seeing his friends bloody face.

"What the hell happened? Did Catherine do that?"

Vincent didn't reply but kept the towel to his face. J.T approached and hissed in sympathy when Vincent removed the towel to show the scoring marking his cheek. The blood was drying but it was smeared along his jaw and down his neck. "Help me get cleaned up. Something is seriously wrong, and we need to find out what."

Vincent entered their bedroom silently, closing the door behind him. Catherine was curled up on the covers, her shoulders hunched in misery, her back to him. Careful not to startle her he approached around the end of the bed, coming in to her view but still not too close.

"Hey."

Catherine looked up, her eyes red with crying. Seeing his face she started to cry again. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... know...what I was doing..."

Vincent gathered her in his arms and rocked her, Catherine clinging to him and sobbing. Vincent tried to calm her, kissing her hair and crooning to her.

"It's alright, I'm not really hurt, you know it will heal quickly, don't cry." His soft words finally penetrated Catherine's distress, the sobs lessening to hitches as she calmed down. At length she drew back a little to mop her face, keeping her eyes down, still unable to face him yet. Vincent let her go but sat beside her, giving her time. Eventually Catherine drew in a shuddering breath and turned to face him.

"I think I'm going mad. To do that..." She lifted her hand, then stopped just before touching his damaged cheek. "I-I feel so out of control, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do next."

Vincent laced his fingers with hers and drew her hand up to his mouth to kiss. "You're not crazy, its just been a bit..."

"Stressful? I used to be a New York city cop, for God's sake. Stressful was the default setting. Here, we're as close to normal as we've ever been, and I'm falling apart."

Vincent put his arm around her back and drew her head down to his shoulder. "You're being too hard on yourself, it's been quite a roller coaster getting here, the disguises...everything."

"Stop it, Vincent. I'm not some weak..."

"I never said you were weak, but you don't exactly go easy on yourself either. You're so strong, the strongest person I know, but even a superwoman has to have some downtime."

"I thought that was what we were doing here, having some downtime. I'm not working, just keeping house and shopping."

"And looking over your shoulder all the time, worrying if the next face you see will be an agent from Muirfield. Worrying that I'll be taken again. Carrying all that on these beautiful..." He kissed her head and gave her arm a squeeze. "...shoulders. It's little wonder if it all gets a bit much."

Catherine sat silent, leaning her head on his shoulder, letting him sooth her with his soft gravely voice, calm creeping over her and loosening the tension in her body.

Vincent could feel her slowly relax against him, the brittleness easing as she gave in to the comfort he offered. Whatever was wrong, he could at least give her some of his strength, let her lean on him for a change. Easing them both further down the bed, he stretched out beside her, drawing her against him to snuggle against his chest, his hand moving rhythmically up and down her back in lazy strokes, part comfort part back massage, his other hand laced with hers, his thumb painting small circles on the top of her hand. Eventually all the tension left Catherine's body, a warmth suffusing her and giving her a measure of peace, the steady thump of Vincent's heart under her ear a reminder of the thread of life between them, the unbreakable bond that bound them to each other.

For a little while the world was held at bay, all its troubles and woes, worries and dangers banished from their cocoon of love and comfort.

Beyond their room the world carried on its business, the machinations of secret organisations continued to grind inexorably towards their discovery but for a short time that worry was suspended and forgotten.

With slow and tender care, Vincent made love to her in the sanctuary of their bed, stripping them both of not only their clothes but also their inhibitions, casting aside caution and restraint until nothing was held back and nothing hidden.

Free of the need to be strong, to be fearless and contained, Catherine submitted to his will, giving up her need to control only to reap a much more fulfilling reward in doing so. The more she surrendered, the more she gained, their coming together a meeting of hearts and bones, flesh and feeling, melding them together in a glorious explosion of passion and love, the heavens themselves coming down to Earth for a brief moment as two souls joined as one.

Vincent gloried in her supple response to his lovemaking, her submission seen not as a weakness but a reflection of his own desire to bring her joy and pleasure. His own fulfillment was entirely dependent on her, his worship of her body as tender and complete as he could make it, the joining of their flesh the ultimate expression of his love for her. There was no barrier between them, no hint of unease or discomfort, only a fusing of two hearts as one, his desire bound up in her response to his touch, his tongue and his loving. If the act itself could have been expressed by light it would have shone as bright as the sun, eclipsing all else and banishing shadows forever.

In the aftermath they lay tangled together, exhausted and replete their bonds of love and strength welded tight and unbreakable.

A peace at last, Catherine slept, watched over with a fierce protectiveness by her beautiful beast.

After the emotional storm of the night, both lovers slept late the next morning, Catherine finally waking to find Vincent by the bed with a hot drink for her.

"Mornin' love." He leant down and kissed her, a soft brushing of lips. "How are you feeling?"

Catherine stretched and blinked up at him, a slow smile lighting her face. "Wonderful. Just wonderful."

Vincent smiled back at her, looking sinfully seductive wearing only a pair of jeans. Catherine reached for the mug and took a sip, her nose crinkling as the smell hit her. Even as Vincent looked on her face took on a greenish hue and her eyes widened. Understanding the signs, he acted swiftly, reaching for the small plastic rubbish bin beside the bed and holding it as Catherine retched, her stomach producing little but not letting go until it was empty.

Exhausted and mortified, Catherine flopped back on the bed panting, one hand covering her mouth.

Vincent quickly disposed of the waste bin, returning from the bathroom with a wet flannel and a glass of water for Catherine to wipe her face and rinse her mouth. He didn't speak, just tended to her needs until she was comfortable again.

Catherine stared up at him. "God, I'm sorry, I don't know why that happened..."

"I do." Vincent replied, crouching down beside the bed. He met her gaze, his expression neutral.

"What is it?" Catherine asked. "The flu? Is that why I've been so tired and irritable?"

Vincent shook his head. "Nope. Catherine, sweetheart...you're pregnant."

Catherine stared at him blankly, then she gave a short laugh. "No way. I can't be pregnant." She sat up, pushing the covers away. "I'm on the pill, you know that. After that last scare..." she snapped her mouth shut, belatedly realising that Vincent didn't remember the last time. Shaking her head in the negative she looked at Vincent with haunted eyes. "I can't be pregnant, it's not possible."

Vincent rose up and rubbed his hands down his jeans. "The symptoms are unmistakeable. I don't have to be a doctor to recognise them." He raked a hand over his head. "And I heard it."

Catherine shot him a look. "Heard it?"

"A heartbeat, one that wasn't yours or mine. Faint, I'll admit, but still a heartbeat."

Catherine looked down at her hands, in a state of shock and denial, her thoughts in turmoil.

"You couldn't have heard anything, I can't possibly be pregnant...I'm sorry, but you're wrong."

Vincent snagged a t-shirt and pulled it over his head. "I'm not wrong." Sitting on the side of the bed he pulled on socks and boots before standing up again. "Do a pregnancy test, or get J.T to do a blood test. Either way, the result will be the same." Then he was gone leaving her to sit in the bed alone, her thoughts chasing themselves round and around in her head.

Catherine emerged from the bedroom towards noon, her arms wrapped protectively about her chest, her hair tied back from her face in a style that did nothing to hide her wan features or red -rimmed eyes. She felt no sense of euphoria or elation, only a bleak despair that the child she carried would have to be terminated before it had a chance to exist.

Vincent sat at the table, tinkering with something electronic, looking up as she approached, his expression unreadable. He turned back to his project. "Feeling better?"

Catherine nodded but didn't speak. She sat opposite him, her arms still wrapped around her as if to ward off blows. They sat, not speaking, the ecstasy of the night a distant memory in face of the life altering news of the morning.

The silence stretched to become almost unbearable. The door of the apartment burst open and they both flinched, J.T entering and stopping dead as he took in both the tableau at the table and the atmosphere thick enough to choke him.

"What the hell has happened? Has Muirfield found us?" He walked towards them, taking off his bag and dropping it to the floor. "How did they find us?"

"They haven't found us, J.T. We're still okay..." Vincent trailed off, his eyes drawn to Catherine's closed expression. "We have some news. You'd better sit down."

J.T looked puzzled but did as he was asked. "So?"

Vincent dragged his eyes away from Catherine's face to meet J.T's worried frown. "Catherine is pregnant."

J.T looked perplexed, then his expression lightened and he smiled. "Congratulations." Belatedly he registered Catherine's tear stained face and Vincent grim concentration. "Not congratulations?"

Catherine finally spoke. "I will have to get rid of it."

"What?" J.T yelped, his response almost drowned out by Vincent's shout. "The hell you will!"

Catherine cringed back at Vincent's roar, her usual confidence knocked back by the force of his anger. Vincent pushed back from the table, the chair falling backwards to clatter on the floor as he rose to his full height, eyes blazing. The considerate, passionate lover of the night was gone, in his place stood an avenging angel.

Breathing slowly to calm himself down, Vincent picked up the chair and sat down again."Why are you set on denying our child?" he ground out, working hard to keep the anger out of his voice. "I don't understand."

Catherine pinned him with a hard look. "Why are you so set on keeping it?" She lifted her arm to indicate the room. "We're hiding from an organisation that want to wipe us out, and you expect me to be happy about bringing a child in to this? I've already had to deal with your apparent death and that almost sent me mad, now you want me to stand by and see my child in the cross-hairs, or worse left an orphan at the mercy of strangers?"

"Our child, Catherine...our child." Vincent interjected, holding on to his frustration with difficulty.

"Then you have it...you keep it safe...!" Catherine shot back.

J.T, the forgotten spectator to this battle of wills, coughed to make his presence known, his two friends both turning their heads to look at him. "Um...I'm not trying to make this any harder, but you should consider the effects of Vincent's cross-species dna on any offspring. In fact I've been wondering about the effect of that same dna on you, Catherine." J.T looked embarrassed, but ploughed on. "Um...well, I mean you've been having the equivalent of an injection of Vincent's corrupted dna every time you...er...well, have sex. It's possible that is why your birth control failed."

His audience looked frozen, Vincent the first to move, turning to face Catherine across the expanse of the table. "Christ. Catherine, I'm sorry, it never occurred to me..."

Catherine turned her head slowly to look at him, his agonised expression stirring her pity. "I'm as much at fault. We had already had a scare a year ago, just before you were taken. I thought I was pregnant, but it turned out to be a false alarm. You tried to tell me then it was a bad idea to even consider children in our future because of your situation. I should have remembered." She drew in a shuddering breath. "But it just gives me more reasons to terminate this pregnancy. While we're together...in that way...I can't run the risk of inflicting your condition on a child." She was looking down at her hands when she said this and didn't see Vincent flinch and draw back..

J.T did and winced in sympathy.

Catherine had been thinking of Gabe and his stories about his childhood, the horror of seeing her own child locked up because of an uncontrollable rage made her recoil in horror. Vincent knew none of this, not only because of his loss of memory, but also because Catherine never got the chance to tell him before he was taken away. Even now he knew very little about Gabe and his past history, leaving him floundering to understand Catherine's attitude. Even J.T was unaware of Catherine's well founded concerns, having even less information to work with than Vincent.

"If you don't mind, I think I want to be alone for a little bit." Getting to her feet, Catherine turned away and walked with dragging steps towards the hallway and their bedroom, her body language screaming despair and a fatalistic acceptance of what had to be done.

Vincent watched her go with tears starting to forge a path down his face, all his rage dissolved in the torrent of misery that engulfed him. J.T carefully wiped his nose, similarly affected.

"Goddamnit, I'm so sorry, big guy. I thought..."

"Yeah. I know." Vincent brushed at his face, surprised to find it wet. Getting to his feet he paced away from the table to where he'd found Catherine only the previous day, staring sightless out of the window. He now did the same, his expression blank while behind his eyes his mind turned over endless possibilities, proposing and discarding as many scenarios and improbable solutions as his brain could devise. All of them led to one inevitable conclusion. He could never run the risk of this happening again. It would be impossible to live in the same place with Catherine and not desire her, want to touch her which would lead to sex, the risk still there even if he used a condom. The only obvious solution was to remove himself from being near her, which led to him leaving and living elsewhere, so the temptation would be removed and the risk avoided.

He turned back to the room, J.T now sat at the table in the chair Catherine had occupied.

"I have to go." Vincent announced. J.T looked up.

"Go? Go where?"

"I can't stay here. While I'm here I can't promise this whole sick episode won't happen again. I can't live with her, and I don't want to live without her but this is all my fault. Look after her J.T. I'll let you know where I am when I have this figured out." He held up his hand when J.T made to get up. "Don't. There's really nothing to say. Keep safe."

Before J.T could do more than open his mouth Vincent had gone, the door swinging closed behind him as he flashed past his friend in a burst of beastly speed to leave the apartment.

J.T sat slowly down at the table once more, his brain having difficulty in keeping up with the events of the past few minutes. In less than an hour Catherine and Vincent had gone from devoted couple to broken and bleeding, Catherine facing possibly the hardest decision of her life, while Vincent had gone God-knows-where to lick his wounds and no idea when, or if he would return.

He stared around the empty room and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.


	11. Chapter 11

J.T knocked softly on the door, listening for a reply before entering. The room was gloomy with the curtains drawn, the fire cold in the grate. A figure stirred in the vast bed and he approached cautiously.

"Catherine ?"

"I'm awake, J.T. Have you heard from him?"

"No, sorry. I was just coming to tell you I'm off out. Is there anything you need before I go?"

Catherine smiled at his concern. "I'm fine, J.T. I'll see you later today."

J.T nodded. "Three thirty, I know. I'll meet you outside, if that's okay?"

It was Catherine's turn to nod, her throat closing again as she thought of the implications.

J.T turned to go, his expression grim.

Catherine turned on her side and lay down again, this time facing the window. It was a week since the awful morning when all their lives had changed. She had been unwell every morning, J.T bringing her a cup of weak tea and dry toast before he left for the University, his sympathy almost too much to bear. In the long hours of darkness she had plenty of time to think, the bed cold and vast around her. In her heart she had already forgiven Vincent, but her head was not in a forgiving mood. It railed at him, blamed him and called him every invective she could remember. Today she would erase her last link with him, the clinic booking growing closer with every tick of the clock.

Unconsciously she placed a hand over her abdomen, spreading her fingers wide to cradle herself. The tears started again and she gave in to her ungovernable emotions, soaking the pillow and leaving her with a sore throat and scratchy eyes. At one o'clock she got up, dragging herself out of bed to get changed, donning her former working clothes and scraping her hair back from her face, not wearing the wig this time, preferring to face the world as herself. She put on dark glasses to hide her eyes and locked the apartment behind her.

J.T met her outside the free clinic, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, not meeting her eyes as she paused to draw in a steadying breath.

"Ready?" she asked. J.T didn't answer, just nodded. Together they walked up the few steps and entered the building.

Vincent let his chin sink to his chest, his eyes closed. Catherine had looked so severe dressed in black, the colour obviously suiting the occasion, at the same time she looked fragile as if the slightest knock would break her into little pieces. He had brought her to this, he had created this situation that she now had to face – alone. He should have been there to support her, hold her hands, face the horror of terminating their child together, but he was a coward and couldn't do that.

Turning away he hunched his shoulders and pushed his hands further into his coat pockets. All he could do now was wait and watch, an invisible guardian once more, as he'd apparently been for nearly a decade before. J.T would have to be his surrogate this time, rather than his friend, looking after the woman Vincent loved because Vincent was too fucked up to do the job himself. Angry at his own internal monologue, Vincent settled down to wait, the rooftop drafty and uncomfortable, a fitting setting for his dark mood.

Two hours later and he knew the moment she emerged. It was getting dark but he could see her clearly, her arm linked with J.T's the two appearing to lean on each other as they made their way down the street. Once again he reached up to find his face wet, his heart feeling like a stone in his chest as he watched her walk away and out of sight. In an outpouring of grief, he punched the brickwork repeatedly, chips of stone flying up to hit him in the face, his knuckles giving him an explosion of pain, blood dripping to the dirty concrete like a sacrifice for the life taken that day. Ignoring it all he slumped against the wall and howled, the sound heard by passers-by below fooling them into thinking a timber wolf or mountain lion had come into town and was lurking in the back alleys somewhere, making them hurry to their destinations that much faster.

Back at the apartment Catherine carefully removed her coat and hung it on the coat rack. J.T watched her warily but she ignored him, going to the kitchen to make herself something to drink.

"You want anything?" she asked, her voice a monotone.

"Er...no. Um...Catherine...?"

"I'm fine, J.T you don't have to worry about me. Everything is just fine."

"What do you want me to tell him?" he asked, wandering into the kitchen and watching her unhurried and calm movements as she prepared her drink.

"There's nothing to tell. The decision was mine, and mine alone. If you see him, make sure he's well for me, please?"

"Of course. I just wish..." J.T started to say but Catherine stopped him.

"There's nothing more to discuss, J.T. I just need some time to adjust and then we'll see."

J.T shook his head slowly and turned away. "Um...I'm just going out. I'll be back by ten."

"Have a good night, J.T and thank you." Catherine smiled as him but it was a pale imitation of the real thing.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," he muttered to himself, walking away.

Vincent pounced on him and dragged him into an alley. "How is she? Is she alright? Were there any complications?"

J.T staggered but quickly recovered. "She says she's fine. In fact that's all she says, 'I'm fine'..."

Vincent reeled away and slumped against the wall. J.T didn't say any more, sensing with unusual empathy that his friend was on the verge of doing something violent.

"Hey, why don't we go and get something to eat?" He suggested brightly, rubbing his hands together. It was full dark now, the street lights barely penetrating the narrow alley. "I know I'm starving, what about you, big guy?"

Vincent lifted his head. "You're always hungry. Let's find somewhere quiet, you can buy me a meal."

They ended up at an all-night eatery well off the main drag, the place looking nearly as despondent as its occupants, most of which looked as if they could use a good bath. J.T and Vincent slid into a booth and a waitress approached, giving Vincent a cheery grin.

"Nice to see you back again. The usual?" She waited for Vincent to nod then turned to J.T. "You look like you'd appreciate the special."

"Sure...whatever you recommend."

The waitress laughed, then leaned down to impart some wisdom. "If that was the case, I'd recommend the place down the street, but don't tell Barry I said that." Then she was gone.

J.T blinked at Vincent, who gave a small smile. "Ignore Sal, she gives that line to anyone foolish enough to ask."

"You been coming here?" J.T asked, thinking that Vincent had somehow managed to blend himself in with the rest of the patrons, while he, J.T, seemed to stick out like a tourist.

Vincent shrugged. "It suits my mood and circumstances. Sal is generous with the coffee pot and it's dry and warm."

"Where are you sleeping?" J.T asked after Sal had filled two mugs and then left again.

"I'm not." Vincent replied shortly, ending that line of conversation succinctly.

J.T sipped at his coffee, surprised to find it made from a good quality blend. "This is good."

"What did you expect? Sump oil?" Sal had appeared at his side and J.T literally jumped almost spilling his drink.

"No...er...I...this is great coffee. I can see why this place is so popular." He gave her his most winning smile but Sal just rolled her eyes and moved away. "That woman is scary!" J.T leaned over the table and whispered to Vincent.

Their meal arrived within minutes and they tucked in, Vincent eating methodically while J.T wolfed his down in record time. When they were finished Sal took away the plates and offered dessert, Vincent shaking his head while J.T chose the special.

J.T decided to broach the silence. "Look, how long are you going to stay away? It's so damn quiet in the evenings I spook at my own shadow."

"I can't come back, I told you that." Vincent growled, developing a fascination with his coffee mug.

"But not forever, surely? I know Catherine misses you, I miss you, maybe we can work something out."

Vincent looked up. "Like what?"

J.T floundered. "I don't know...maybe you take my room during the day, then go out a night, kinda like you used to. When you're done prowling and growling you can have my bed to sleep in during the day. That way you can avoid each other but still be sort of in touch."

"I'm not trying to avoid Catherine..." Vincent started to say, only for J.T to snort in derision.

"Then you've got us all fooled. I'd say that's exactly what you're doing. Both of you."

For a brief second Vincent's eyes glowed a fierce gold and J.T sat back in his seat, tense and ready to flee. Then the glow faded and Vincent looked down at the scratched table top.

"I'll think about it. Catherine will need to agree before I'll come anywhere near her. I've done enough already to hurt her, I won't do anything more. I'd rather sleep in a doorway than that."

J.T gave him a considering look, in his own mind comparing the pair of them to truculent children rather than reasonable adults. Sighing, he accepted the offer and didn't try to reason with him.

"Here." He held out a wad of cash for Vincent to take. "I know you've hardly touched the account, but you need something for food, and get yourself a motel room. The weather is going to change in a few days and you don't need pneumonia on top of amnesia."

"I've got a room to rent, if you're looking for somewhere?" Sal's voice interjected. Both men turned to look up at the waitress. She openly ogled Vincent, then carried on. "I have a spare room I let for certain...gentlemen travellers needing a place short term. It's better than the flea pits and doss houses that you're likely to be able to afford. I could do with a strapping, good looking man around the place, whatdoyasay?" Then she winked.

Vincent gave Sal a smile. "Deal." J.T just gaped then shut his mouth with a snap. At least now he could report to Catherine that Vincent was fine and being well taken care of.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Catherine lay in the huge bed and stared at the flickering pattern of light playing over the ceiling and walls, the flames of the fire rising and dying as the logs burned, scenting the room with smoke.

She had lit the fire to have some sound in the room, the apartment eerily quiet and empty without Vincent in it. It was stupid and she told herself frequently that it was irrational, but she couldn't shake it, she missed him, missed his presence, missed his voice, his scent, his body beside her, the sound of his breathing, his toe curling love making, she missed it all.

J.T had reported from his meeting with Vincent, but that just made her miss him all the more.

She tossed and turned, sleep eluding her, the bed mocking her as she stroked the pillow where Vincent would normally lay his head. Pulling it closer she imagined she could smell a trace of his essence, cuddling the pillow to her chest and imaging it was him.

A moment later and she flung the pillow away, berating herself for being a pathetic fool.

One of the logs collapsed into the grate and it made her jerk awake from a light doze, her blood racing until she identified the sound. Her heart was knocking against her ribs and she wondered if her nerves would ever recover, her hand still trembling when she lifted it up to inspect it.

Once again she turned over and attempted to sleep, drawing her legs up close to her chest and pulling the covers up to her ears.

Vincent shifted on the narrow bed and pummeled the pillow. There was nothing wrong with the room, or the bed, it was just that Catherine wasn't in it with him, not that there'd be room. All he could think of was her, her smiles her sighs, her moans and slumberous eyes. He missed her terribly, his fingers aching to touch her, stroke her skin and smooth over her hair. If he closed his eyes he could imagine her taste, her smell, the feel of her long slender legs around his waist, her fingers stroking over his head and playing with his ears. The vision was so strong his body responded in kind and hardened, frustrating him further. To lessen his discomfort he tried to imagine any and all un-sexy scenarios, none of them featuring Catherine, his fierce concentration having the desired effect with his body softening and subsiding at last.

Turning on to his front he groaned and buried his head in the lumpy pillows, trying to blank his mind, willing sleep to claim him and give his brain a break. The weather had finally broken and rain drummed insistently on the window, reminding him of J.T words about risking pneumonia and compounding his amnesia.

Recently he'd been having flashes of scenes that had nothing to do with his life since waking up in the hospital. They frequently featured J.T, or sometimes people he didn't recognise at all. Some were with Catherine, some with people dressed in army fatigues. Often the flashes featured night scenes of strangers, some showing blood on his hands, others of him saving or rescuing people in trouble. The visions hit him at all times of the day or night, sometimes lasting a few seconds often turning up in his dreams, mixed together and largely incomprehensible with no one to explain them in some form of context. By the time he tried to sleep he was weary in body and mind, his emotions as disjointed and erratic as his visions.

A knock at his door drew his attention away from his thoughts and he called out. "Come in."

The door opened and Sal poked her head around the jamb. "Trouble sleeping?"

Vincent swung his legs out of the bed and sat up. "Some."

Sal pushed the door open and crossed her arms. "I have the kettle on, come and have a brew."

Vincent looked up, squinting at the light from the hallway. "Sure, why not."

Sal turned away and he followed, his bare feet sinking into the carpet as he followed his landlady along the hall to her kitchen. There he sat at the table while Sal poured hot water into two mugs.

After passing one to Vincent, Sal sat opposite and sipped the fragrant brew. She regarded her new lodger over the rim of her mug, admiring his physique on show. She had never seen a man wear a black widow-maker so well, the plain pyjama pants riding low on slim hips and encasing long legs. She told herself if she wasn't old enough to be his mother, and he wasn't wearing an aching heart on his sleeve, she'd tap that ass in an instant.

"Care to share?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Vincent looked up, matching her arched brow.

"What am I drinking?" he asked instead.

"Camomile tea. Calming and good for anyone having trouble sleeping." Sal imparted with a cheeky grin. Vincent grunted and took another sip.

"You have trouble sleeping?" Vincent quipped, giving her a crooked smile. Sal rolled her eyes and raised her mug in salute.

"Sassy bastard." She delivered the insult without malice, her eyes dancing. "I have no problem sleeping but I could hear the bed springs protesting and thought I'd offer a shoulder to cry on."

Vincent eyed her brightly coloured, silky wrap encasing a pair of well upholstered shoulders supporting a pillowy bosom of impressive proportions.

"Tempting, but I'll take a rain-check." Vincent replied with a wry smile. "But I appreciate the offer."

"A gal's gotta take her opportunities when they present themselves. The offer is open ended, no best before or use by date." Sal told him. "I know a tortured soul when I see one, and you, dear boy, are wearing a world of hurt in your heart." Finishing her drink she got up and went to the sink, rinsing the mug and leaving in on the side. "Doors always open." She said as her parting shot before leaving Vincent alone, her bedroom door closing with a loud snick further down the hallway.

Vincent finished his own drink feeling better than at any time since leaving Catherine. Sal was a complete stranger but had offered him a place to live, a sympathetic ear and a measure of peace to think his problems through. Draining the dregs he washed the mug in the sink and left it to drain.

Back once more in his room he sat on the side of the bed, feeling tired at last. Laying back he linked his hands behind his head and stared up at the shadowed ceiling.

Somehow he had to come to terms with what had happened, his behaviour and his self perceived betrayal of Catherine by leaving her to deal with it all alone. If she ever forgave him, he had a lot of ground to make up. On the other hand, he had to find a way to live with knowing he could never touch her again. On this unsolvable conundrum he drifted off to sleep.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

Catherine managed to hide her condition for only two more weeks, her ruse finally discovered when J.T heard her throwing up noisily, her usual morning nausea avoidance techniques failing her for once. When she eventually appeared she found the hallway blocked by an incensed J.T.

"You didn't do it, did you?! All this time you let him think you got rid of his child, but you didn't. Is this some sick sort of punishment? What did he ever do to deserve this? Do you hate him that much?"

Catherine suffered his angry tirade in silence knowing she deserved every accusation.

"I couldn't go through with it. I was sitting in the waiting room after having the ultrasound, and I simply couldn't be there any more. They told me I was about seven weeks gone, give or take and I saw its heart beating. It was alive and inside me. When I saw that scan I think I finally believed it, that I was going to have a child. Vincent and my child. I went and got dressed then and there. I thought for sure you'd realise I hadn't gone through with it, but you didn't say a word."

His anger well and truly routed, J.T spread his hands. "What the fuck do I know? I'm a guy!"

Catherine smiled wearily. "So now you know. I'm still very much pregnant and I have no idea what I'm doing." She brushed past him and carried on into her room, J.T following.

"Why won't you tell him?" J.T asked, coming to a halt his expression confused. "He's been suffering as much as you over this. Can't you put the poor bastard out of his misery?"

Catherine sat on the side of the bed and nervously plucked at the cover. "I don't know how. I feel horrible all the time with the way I treated him, I don't know how to make it right. I'm not sure we can recover what we had before. I'm so horribly messed up." She leant forward, resting her elbows on her knees and covered her face.

J.T looked on helplessly then turned and left, snagging his coat on the way out the front door. If Catherine was unable or unwilling to sort the mess out, he was sure as hell going to give it a try, for all their sakes.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

He found Vincent sitting at his favourite greasy spoon reading a newspaper. Sal wasn't in evidence when J.T slid into the booth, Vincent looking up for a moment before returning to reading the paper.

"Hey." J.T said, suddenly nervous.

"Hey. Shouldn't you be at class or something?" Vincent asked, not looking up.

"You need to come home...now."

Vincent lifted his head and look at J.T, sensing something was amiss. He noted the heightened breathing, flushed face and racing heart. "What is it? Is Catherine okay?" Suddenly on alert he folded the paper and pushed it to the side. "Why are you all hyped up?"

"You really, really need to come home. I can't tell you why, but you need to talk to Catherine, like yesterday!"

Vincent frowned. "Did she ask you to come?"

J.T shook his head. "Not exactly...no...but..." Vincent cut him off.

"I told you. I'm not coming back unless Catherine agrees..."

"But you really need to speak to her, it's important...and...and..." he spluttered to a halt, bursting to tell Vincent his news but knowing that it had to come from Catherine, not him.

"You're not making much sense, J.T or at least less than you usually do." Vincent sat back and regarded his struggling friend with narrowed eyes.

"For God's sake, for once in your life take my word on trust alone. You need to speak to Catherine, and once you do all this...this..." J.T waved his arms in the air. "Will be sorted out. We can get back to worrying about Muirfield instead of worrying about...um...other stuff."

"Will you stop having an apoplectic if I come with you?" Vincent asked, getting to his feet.

Happy that he'd achieved his goal, J.T grinned and tugged on Vincent's arm. "You won't regret this, I promise."

They arrived back at the apartment, J.T entering first. All was quiet, the place looking deserted. J.T took off his jacket but Vincent kept his on, barely coming in far enough to clear the door closing behind him. J.T was still in a hyper mood and Vincent couldn't figure out what would make him that way. Suddenly J.T turned and pulled Vincent further into the room.

"Stand here and I'll go get Catherine. Okay?"

Vincent nodded, then watched J.T almost running down the hallway, only stopping long enough to knock on the door before bursting into her bedroom.

"You have to tell him...he's here now." J.T blurted out.

Catherine looked up but didn't react at first. "J.T, have you been out?"

"Yes, of course I went out. He's here, and I told him you had something to tell him."

Catherine looked appalled, then angry. "You had no right to tell him!"

"I didn't." J.T explained. "I just said you needed to speak to him, so speak to him and get this cleared up. Now."

Catherine scowled at him, but got to her feet and marched past him, her anger only lasting until she stood at the entrance to the living room and saw him standing there. He looked tired, his hair longer than the last time she'd seen him, cheekbones more pronounced. He looked up and their eyes met.

"Hey". He drank her in, staring at her like a fool, his eyes roaming over her beloved features, noting small changes, but mostly seeing the flash of emotion in her eyes, her heart rate kicking up into overdrive telling him she wasn't indifferent to him. "J.T said you had something to tell me."

She moved into the room, her hands by her side. She licked her suddenly dry lips and cleared her throat. "J.T thought you should know...um...I didn't go through with it." Inwardly she cringed at her own inability to articulate. Vincent just stared at her, his expression showing incomprehension.

"Are you okay? J.T seemed to think what you had to say was important."

J.T, listening unashamedly from the bedroom doorway, ground his teeth and smacked himself on the forehead. It was like his friends were talking two separate languages.

Catherine frowned, thrown that he hadn't understood her. "Vincent, I went to the clinic but I didn't have the procedure."

Vincent stared at her blankly for a moment then enlightenment dawned. "You're still pregnant," he stated, realisation making him giddy.

Catherine nodded.

In the bedroom doorway J.T did a silent jig and punched the air. There was hope for them all yet.


	12. Chapter 12

They lay once more, side by side in the king sized bed, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered from a second round of lovemaking that threatened to break all previous records for sheer heart pounding intensity. Once they touched each other in the living room there was no way they could let go, their heightened emotions making what followed more intense, more tender and more explosive. Vincent had carried Catherine into the bedroom and kicked the door shut, their coming together not waiting for soft pillows and a comfortable mattress. Their first was hard and fast up against the wall, clothes pushed or ripped aside, teeth and lips clashing as they fought each other to be first, disjointed words entering the fray as they renewed their vows of love. Both moaned loudly when flesh encased flesh, the temperature rising between them to scorch away guilt and grief, neither prepared to give way in this battle of who loved who the most.

When the initial burn gave way to panting languor then they moved to the bed, shedding what remained of their clothes and falling in to each other, stroking and kissing their way towards another climax. Nothing was denied and everything given while they strained and fought to convince the other that nothing could, or should ever come between them again.

Now they lay together in the aftermath, unable and unwilling to wipe the smiles from their faces, basking in the rightness of being loved so thoroughly.

Stirring himself, Vincent leaned over Catherine and lay his head on her belly, the soft flesh yielding while he listened, one hand warm and solid against her hip.

"It's louder now," he announced, lifting his head to look up her body and meet her sparkling gaze.

"It'll be bigger than the last time, and getting stronger every day."

After pressing a slow kiss to her belly button, Vincent stretched out beside her on his side facing her. Catherine did the same so they faced each other. For a long moment they just looked, not speaking just absorbing the fact that they were together again, the long weeks of misery and heartache behind them. Neither were naïve enough to think that there wouldn't be similar bumps along the road, but none would be so shocking or divisive as this one had been.

Catherine reached up to trace the outline of his lips, her finger trailing like a gentle explorer mapping his features, the long scar and dark eyebrows, her fingers brushing back the hair starting to flop over his forehead.

"You let your hair grow."

"Couldn't find a hair dresser I liked."

Catherine laughed, as he'd hoped. "I like your hair long. You look like a pirate."

"I'd suggest I go get a tattoo, but it wouldn't last very long."

Catherine looked surprised. "You tried to get one before?"

"When I joined the army, it was expected that you got your unit insignia tattooed somewhere on you, usually the arm or back or chest. I had one here." He pointed to the top of his arm. "But when I got back to the states it was gone, a side effect of the injections."

Catherine stared at him. This was the first time he'd spoken about anything prior to her finding him at the hospital. Vincent didn't seem to realise he'd said anything unusual. Seeing her intense, if startled, expression he smiled. "What?"

"I never knew you had a tattoo. What is the scar you have, why didn't that heal too?"

"The one on my abdomen? When I was little I screamed and carried on so much I gave myself a strangulated hernia, or so my brother told me. They had to operate and left me with that impressive scar. I used to tell anyone who asked it was from wrestling a salt water croc while on holiday in the Northern Territory of Australia, but it's just a surgical scar."

Catherine listened, fascinated. She hated to burst the bubble of reminiscences so didn't say anything, letting him ramble on about his family, his brothers, father and mother, all information that she'd never heard before, most of it filling in the gaps of her knowledge and making her love him all the more for sharing such personal memories with her.

Once he started, he didn't seem to want to stop, telling her about his first girlfriend at the age of eight, of his prom and the prank he played on a high school bully. At some point Vincent realised for himself that his memory had returned, but he didn't pause, wanting to share something personal and known only to the two of them, telling her things that he hadn't even shared with J.T.

Catherine, in her turn told him details about family occasions, her memories of her mother, her experience after Vincent saved her from the assassins the first time, of her decision to change from legal to law enforcement. They talked long into the night, on subjects ranging from old friends long gone, to what they each wanted for the future. As dawn broke they finally gave in to the need for sleep, curling up together under the covers, both having a better understanding of the other and both hoping for a future, not only for themselves and J.T but now for their unborn child as well.

J.T was at the table eating lunch when Vincent finally stumbled out, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the bright sunlight filling the apartment.

"What are you doing here?" Vincent growled, yanking the fridge door open to peer inside.

J.T rolled his eyes. "It's Saturday?" Shaking the folds out of the weekend paper, he continued to read. He peered over the top of the paper as Vincent, wearing nothing but unbuttoned jeans, filled the jug and set it to boil.

"So...everything sorted between you two?" J.T asked, fighting hard to keep the grin off his face.

Vincent turned to glance at his friend, a slow smile curling his lips. "You could say that."

"And you're moving back in here?" J.T pushed, biting his cheek to stop himself laughing.

"Very likely." Vincent rumbled at him, yawning widely and stretching.

"Good. Want me to tell Sal?" He offered, letting the smile he'd been suppressing break out.

Vincent scratched idly at his whiskers. "Nope. I'll go see Sal this morning and thank her. Oh, and by the way...I have my memory back apparently. At least I can remember everything up to my kidnapping, and everything after waking up at the hospital, the bit in the middle is still a blank."

J.T stared at him, goggle eyed. "That's fantastic! How did you find out?"

Vincent sat down at the table and leaned on his elbows. "I was telling Catherine about my tattoo, and somehow it all came out after that." He shrugged. "We talked for hours."

J.T arched an eyebrow and gave Vincent a look. "Of course, you talked..." Something in his tone alerted Vincent that he was being mocked.

"Yes. Talked. Anything else is none of your damn business." The kettle clicked off and he got up to go make Catherine her weak tea and himself a strong coffee.

J.T disappeared behind the paper, not at all offended by his friends brush off. As far as he was concerned the world was once more turning on it's true axis, and Vincent could be a grouchy as he wanted. Nothing was going to burst J.T's happy bubble.

Later that morning all three of them went down to Main street to take part in the Saturday morning market. Vincent still had to see Sal, who would be home on her day off, but he rather thought that introducing the two women would solve several problems with one visit. Sal had been the soul of kindness and generosity to him and she deserved to see what all the fuss had been about, plus Catherine was curious to meet the woman who had taken care of her Vincent in the weeks they'd been apart.

Vincent smiled to himself. 'Her Vincent', Catherine had said, stamping her ownership on him, a gesture he was more than happy to embrace. He never wanted to go through that level of misery and soul searching again, willing to go to any length to keep her happy, a situation she seemed to echo. Now they walked like any other couple enjoying a sunny weekend, arm in arm, J.T beside them, pointing out anything that caught their eyes, chatting and smiling – two people very much in love with each other, and at peace with the world around them.

The bubble burst when they reached Sal's apartment. She welcomed them all in, but instead of her usual saucy jokes and off colour teasing, Sal was unusually tense.

"You'd better sit down, all of you." she ordered. Her three guests exchanged a look before sitting at the small table, Sal remaining standing. "I figured you'd got yourself sorted at long last. I'm pleased to meet you, missy, but I have something that I think you need to know."

Vincent could sense her fear and agitation. "What is it, Sal?"

Sal shifted and folded her arms across her chest. "There's been folk asking after you. Not so much your gal or your friend, but you most specifically. Described you right neatly, scar, eyes, beard the works. They seemed very keen to speak to anyone who'd seen or spoken to you. Were prepared to pay good money for any credible information. They looked like bounty hunters to me, but what do I know. What sort of trouble are you in, Vincent?"

Vincent looked startled. He'd never given Sal his real name, only the fake one they had I.D's for.

"Why did you call me that?" he asked warily.

"They were handing out mug shots and that was the name on the photo. I reckon you were a lot younger when they were taken. Are you a deserter?"

"No."

"The pictures were of you in fatigues. I didn't like to think that you were a deserter, but that's the story they're putting about. This is a small town, it won't take them long to track you down. A visit to any of the rental agents will ferret you out if you're renting a place."

"Fuck!" Vincent swore and got up, pacing a few steps, his brows drawn together in a frown.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were a real nice fella." Sal sat down heavily at the table.

"Vincent isn't a deserter and he is a very nice...er...fella." Catherine told her. She exchanged a quick glance with J.T before speaking again. "These people want to find us and kill us all. I know that sounds overly dramatic but it's the truth. We've been hiding out here hoping they wouldn't find us so soon, but we obviously under-estimated them and their resources." She drew in a steadying breath. "Vincent and I are having a baby. We didn't plan it, it just happened. Now we need to get out of here fast. Can you help us, Sal?"

Catherine ruthlessly squashed her conscience in asking this stranger for help, even if it meant her getting hurt along the way. They were fighting for their very lives and the life of her baby. Catherine was prepared to do anything to protect that now.

Sal looked at the three young people filling her kitchen. "I'll do it. Didn't like the look of them one bit, and if I can help you get away, I'll do what I can. What do you need?"

"If, as you say they would have gone to the real estate agents, they might have found us already." Vincent said, sitting down again. "We need to get our stuff out of the apartment."

"My journals," J.T interjected. "I must have my journals."

"If we're quick we might just beat them to it. We can get in through the fire-escape and dust off in half an hour. Catherine, you stay here at Sal's place and we're meet you here in an hour."

"What? No, I'm coming with you, I'm pregnant, not disabled!"

Vincent held her upper arms when she made to follow him. "I love you, but you have to do this for me. I won't risk you getting hurt. J.T and I know what to grab and what to do, you stay here and figure out where we're going to go next. With luck we'll be back before you realise we're gone. Please, Catherine, don't argue with me on this."

They stared into each other's eyes, words forming unsaid between them. Then Catherine nodded and Vincent broke away, J.T following him out of the house.

Catherine sat back down, staring blankly at Sal who stared back unhappily.

They approached the apartment on high alert, checking it out before climbing the fire-escape and entering through the window. It was quiet and undisturbed, Vincent using his heightened senses thoroughly before they swung into action, packing with economy and speed, J.T carrying the bags down to his camper, while Vincent cleaned out everything that gave any hint of their plans or presence. With both vehicles once more packed and ready to go, they slowly negotiated the back alley of the building and pulled out on to the side road, taking a roundabout route back to Sal's, always keeping an eye on the rear view mirror in case they were tailed. They were only just in time. Back at the apartment the door was kicked in and a group of heavily armed men spread out through the apartment, yanking open cupboards and pulling drawers out to litter the floor.

Their leader pulled off his balaclava and surveyed the apartment.

"Shit. They've already gone. Someone tipped them off."

His men appeared, all of them shaking their heads and nothing to show for their hasty search.

"Mutherfuckinarsebitingpussbucket..." the tirade went on as the men milled about, searching the larger room for any hint of the occupants or their possible location. Only the fridge gave any clue that there had been people living here recently. The milk was fresh with a still current use by date, and the fruit was also unblemished. Finding nothing the men trooped out, their leader hanging back to place a call on his mobile to his supervisor.

"Sorry, Sir. The birds have flown the coop. We must have missed them by minutes." He paused, listening to the reply. "Someone tipped them off, that's the only way they could have known." He listened again. "Yeah. I'm sure. We won't be far behind them...orders?" The voice on the other end spoke for some time then the man answered. "Sir, yes sir. On our way now. Will contact you at eighteen hundred hours with an update on progress." Then he closed the phone, glancing one more time around the empty room before stomping after his men, the door left to hang drunkenly on its broken hinges.

Sal twitched back the curtains for the hundredth time, scanning the alleyway for any sign of the boys. Catherine sat, looking perfectly calm, at the table scanning through a map book that Sal had found, looking for a new place to shelter them.

"Found anywhere?" Sal asked, coming back to the table to look, but finding the book closed.

"The less you know the better." Catherine told her, looking apologetic. "If anyone asks, you can honestly answer that you know nothing. And don't think that they won't ask, they will. These men are ruthless, certainly not your ordinary bounty hunter."

"I didn't come down in the last shower, dear." Sal sat down and laced her fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. "I'm so pleased everything worked out between you and Vincent. He is really rather tasty, if you don't mind me saying. They don't make 'em like that very often. You're a lucky girl."

Catherine smiled. "I know. And he was very lucky to find you, Sal. You've been very kind to us all, but particularly to Vincent."

Sal made a scoffing sound. "Not exactly a hardship to offer a bed to a handsome bit of stuff like that. Only wish I was a deal younger to take advantage of it." She sighed gustily and the two women giggled at her teasing.

A sound outside drew them both back to the window, the camper-van and truck pulling up and disgorging two grim faced men.

"Guess it's time you were going. Best of luck to you all." Sal gave Catherine a hug and kissed both her cheeks. "If you ever come back this way, there's a safe house here if you ever need it."

Catherine hugged the woman back. "Thank you, Sal. I appreciate that."

Vincent opened the door, not coming inside. "Ready?"

Catherine nodded and moved past him, leaving him to say his goodbyes.

Sal moved in and gave him a rib squeezing hug, Vincent jumping when a hand grabbed his arse and gave that a squeeze too.

"You look after that woman, she's a treasure beyond price." Sal scolded him, her smile wobbly.

"I will. Thank you, Sal." Bending down he gave her a quick kiss then turned to go, Sal holding her fingers to her lips as the door swung shut behind him. Looking out the window she saw them all climb back into their vehicles and pull out, Sal waving at the last minute. Then they were gone.

Giving a final heavy sigh, Sal turned away and surveyed her suddenly empty kitchen. Maybe it was time she took that vacation she'd been saving for. Seemed like a good time to get out of Dodge for awhile.

**.x. break .x. break .x. break .x.**

It was a safe bet that their pursuers would have watchers on the main routes out of town. Catherine, already one step ahead, had been picking Sal's brains about local knowledge which allowed them to avoid any of the main routes and get onto one that was little used except by adventure seeking tourists. The Yakima Canyon road seemed to fit the bill. There was only one traffic camera on the Manastash ridge then they were clear of electronic surveillance until they hit Yakima. It was hoped that the others were watching the main routes north and south. With a little luck they would escape notice for awhile longer.

Catherine let her head fall back, the window wound down to let fresh air blow over her face. Her morning nausea seemed to have decided to become all day nausea, hitting at inconvenient times, like driving along a winding, picturesque riverside road with towering cliffs on one side and, a drop to the river on the other.

"You okay?" Vincent asked, catching a glimpse of his passengers tightly pressed lips and pale face.

"I will be when we stop having to go around bends all the time."

Vincent reached across and squeezed her hand before returning it to the steering wheel. Traffic was light with a few other sightseers tooling along the deserted highway. It wasn't a long stretch of road, barely twenty five miles, but it was quite spectacular, Vincent only sorry that Catherine wasn't well enough to appreciate it. He checked the rear view mirror and lifted a hand to wave to J.T hugging their bumper.

They reached Pamona and now had to negotiate a network of back roads to reach the Old Naches highway that would take them west to hook into highway twelve. That would take them west and south, past Mount Ranier and back to the west coast interstate. If all of that didn't throw off the pursuit, they were royally screwed. It was a tortuous route that would take them roughly four hours to negotiate, longer if they stopped along the way.

They stopped briefly in Naches itself to fuel up and refresh supplies before starting the crossing through the mountains. Catherine drove for this leg of the trip, the concentration needed taking her mind of her unruly stomach. J.T had been watching the traffic around them and reported nothing out of the ordinary and no sightings of helicopters of suspicious vehicles following them. It would seem their luck was holding. What they would do once they came out the other side of the Cascades was another matter.

At Napavine they took stock, J.T getting to choose their destination for the night. He had it all ready, pointing out a small township nestled in a valley near to Wallawa Lake, near the border between Oregon and Idaho. It was small, unknown and an eight hour drive. They would have to cross the Cascades again, then an expanse of desert luring them south and then east into desolate country and spectacular scenery. It made no sense, but it would be random enough to confuse those trying to track them. Apart from two petrol station breaks to tank up and use a bathroom, they left nothing behind to show their true direction.

They arrived at Enterprise in the early hours of the morning. A sign directed them to the Log House camp ground outside of town. The backdrop to the town was a magnificent range of mountains, their snow tipped peaks clearly visible despite there being only a sliver of moon to light them. Given the late hour they were surprised to see a light still on, the campground proprietor directing them to a site tucked under some trees, but close to the facilities. They were all exhausted, not only from the driving, but the stress of being fugitives once more. They bedded down for the night and were asleep within minutes.

They awoke to a crisp morning and an expansive view of the mountains to the south. Despite it being late summer, the air had a nip to it and Catherine bundled herself into a warm jacket to make the trek across to the toilets. Footsteps alerted her seconds before Vincent fell in to step beside her, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

"Not a bad view to wake up to, is it?"

Catherine looked up at him and smiled. "I'd agree with that."

Vincent laughed, pulling her into his side. "I was talking about the mountain range."

Catherine grinned. "You forget, I'm a New York city girl. I'm used to seeing the spectacular every day." She waved an arm at the view. "This is the same, just with less people."

They separated at the toilet block, a few more people appearing from among the RV's and camper vans parked around the grounds. After taking care of business, she went outside again to find Vincent lounging against the wall, waiting for her.

"Is this going to become a habit?" she asked, linking her arm with his.

"Maybe. Let's go wake up J.T and get breakfast."

They ran the short distance to where they'd parked, banging on the side of J.T's vehicle to wake him up. He appeared a few seconds later, tousled and grumpy. "It's too early. Go. Away."

Vincent opened the side door, letting in the cold air and making J.T burrow further into his sleeping bag. Despite this, Vincent lifted up the back hatch and started rummaging for supplies. When J.T refused to get up, they announced they were going in to town to find somewhere to eat, leaving him to wake up in his own time.

"How do you think they found us?" Catherine asked, happily munching her way through a stack of pancakes. Vincent watched her dedication to eating and silently marvelled as her ability to bounce back.

"Who knows?" he replied, taking a swig of his coffee. He grimaced, remembering Sal's wonderful brew, the one in front of him a poor relation. "Maybe they just got lucky. If they've started using the bounty hunter network, we could be in real trouble."

"Especially if they have anyone as good as me on the team. These pancakes are just delicious." Catherine continued on her one-woman demolition of the plateful of food. Vincent manfully tried to keep up but was full long before his plate was anywhere near empty.

"Don't you want yours?" Catherine asked, pointing her fork at his left overs. Vincent shook his head and pushed it towards her.

"Go for it. I'm full."

Before his amused gaze she did just that, clearing his plate of every scrap, finally sitting back and rubbing her stomach appreciatively. "God, that was good." She leant forward. "Their coffee is horrid, but those pancakes were to die for."

Vincent grinned back, happy to see her enjoying something as simple as a good breakfast.

"Stress certainly seems to give you an appetite. I'll have to arrange for us to be chased out of town more often."

Catherine poked her tongue out at him and sat back, staring out the window at the mountains beyond. "They truly are rather wonderful, looming over the town like that. I've always thought of them as rather forbidding and dangerous, but seen like this, you can understand why people want to live here."

"You wouldn't say that in the winter when the snow is higher than the roof." A voice chimed in. Looking at them from the next booth was an old man with a grizzled beard and a sunny grin.

"Tourist, are you?" He waited for them to dutifully nod "Guess you'll be heading up to the lake then. Everyone goes to the lake. Some damn funny stuff goes on up at that lake."

"For heaven's sake, Jeff, stop trying to spook these good people. Sorry, Jeff seems to take some perverse delight in telling tall tales." The waitress cuffed the old man who leered and turned back to his own table, leaving Catherine and Vincent having difficulty keeping a straight face.

"Was your meal alright?" The waitress asked,

"The pancakes were wonderful." Catherine enthused. "I don't suppose I can have some to take away."

"Sure. I'll get those back to you in a tick."

Catherine turned back to meet Vincent's amused gaze. "Don't you dare laugh at me. It's been ages since I've wanted anything much to eat."

"I wasn't laughing, sweetheart, I was just glad to see you so happy."

Catherine laughed back at him. "I must be crazy. We're being chased by Muirfield, tracked by bounty hunters and all I care about are the local delicacy."

The waitress soon returned with a package containing the aforementioned edibles, Catherine clutching them while Vincent settled the bill. Outside again, they looked around the small town before climbing back into the truck to return to J.T.

J.T was back to his usual self, the camper-van once more converted from night to day use. Catherine produced the still warm pancakes and J.T wolfed them down, as impressed as she had been with them. Afterwards they discussed their next move and how to stay one step ahead of the wolf pack.

"You remember I was working on these? Well, I think now is the time we start carrying them day or night." He produced three hand-held air pistols modified to take tranquilizer darts. Each had an attendant pouch with spare ammo, each dart containing enough anti-beast and sedative to drop a full grown man. "These aren't intended for the regular bad guys, these are for any that Vincent senses are beasty boys."

"So what do we do about the other bad guys?" Catherine asked. "No offense but I don't think they're going to be very intimidated with a dart gun."

"Hey, I'm not a walking armory. I'm the biochemist, remember? He's the soldier, you're the cop. Me brains, you muscle and you fire power. Although technically Vincent is both muscle and fire power, but let's not quibble."

"Whatever we are, we are seriously under resourced. We have no guns, I don't even have a Taser." Catherine retorted. "And even if we did have all the guns, we can't go up against a black ops team."

"We did that already, when we escaped from the old factory. There we had an escape plan, here we're just winging it," said Vincent. "We can keep running, but eventually we'll run out of money or simply make a mistake and then it's all over."

The three friends fell silent, Vincent's comments bringing home to them all how precarious their situation had become. Without the means to elude their hunters, they would soon become easy pickings. Something more drastic or more ingenious would need to be found to escape that fate.


	13. Chapter 13

"What if we were to just disappear?" J.T suggested. They'd sat up late the previous night trying to come up with ways to evade capture, each idea more fantastic and outlandish than the next. Now it was mid morning of their second day in Enterprise and they were still no closer to a solution.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Catherine asked. She was sitting cross-legged on a rug, Vincent laying beside her while J.T sat in the camper, maps spread out on the small table.

"How does anyone disappear? And yet every year people manage to disappear all over the states

and are never heard from again, despite intense searches."

"Okay, I'll bite." Vincent growled. "How are we going to disappear?"

"The mountains." J.T pointed to the snow capped peaks, the main focal points wherever you stood in the area.

"The mountains? Come on, J.T. I thought this came up last night and we dismissed it." said Catherine. "We're hardly equipped to survive small town America, let alone becoming wilderness survivors."

"Mock is you must, but I think it's fast becoming our only option. There are roads crisscrossing this entire state park. People go camping all the time, admittedly usually in the summer, but there's nothing to stop anyone going up into the hills." J.T was warming to his idea.

"What about in the winter? That's a pretty high range and once the snows come there's nothing up there but cold and ice. Unless someone has a very well set up log cabin, I don't fancy our chances trying to rough it." said Vincent.

"Survivalist and nut-jobs do it all the time, set up camps in the woods with minimal resources to escape whatever apocalypse they believe in."

"We're not survivalist, and thank you, but we're not nut-jobs either. And one other thing you seem to have forgotten." Catherine pointed to herself. "Pregnant? Are you suggesting I just go and squat in the woods to deliver this child."

J.T scowled. "Vincent's a doctor...now he has his memory back, I'm sure he remembers what to do."

"Sorry, J.T but I'm with Catherine. It's a great idea, but I just don't see it working. Escaping into the mountains sounds more like a way to trap ourselves with no way out, waiting for the bad guys to pick us off more easily."

"So what does that leave us? We keep moving from place to place, never settle – like gypsies?"

"You said it yourself last night, we can't afford to stay very long in any one place, but that's just what tourists do – move around the country never stopping long. We just become very long term tourists in our own country. They can't catch us if we don't settle. We've gone through every other possibility." Catherine looked down at Vincent who nodded, then back up at J.T who still frowned, but nodded all the same. "If we're going to go gypsy, then what we're currently driving won't be sufficient for long term mobile accommodation, we'll need something bigger."

Vincent grinned. "So no covered wagon and a pair of horses?"

Catherine laughed. "Not unless it's a carriage ride through Central Park. I was thinking along the lines of an RV or something. Do you think if we trade in these two it will be enough?"

J.T shrugged. "We'll need to stop in the next big town and see what's available."

"What's closest? The sooner we get this road trip underway the better." said Vincent, sitting up.

J.T held up a map book and pointed to a particular spot on the page. "La Grande."

They rolled in to La Grande, Catherine wanting to stop at a post office first. She had new instructions to the property manager handling the sale of her apartment. With a future income in mind, she had decided not to sell it but rent it out, the income to be paid into an anonymous account that could be drawn on when needed. While she was there she used a public phone to check the balance of their remaining funds before drawing out a lump sum, leaving just enough behind to keep the account open. They were all back into their disguises, Vincent having to leave Catherine and J.T to do the running around while he stayed with the vehicles. J.T had dyed his hair a streaky blond while Catherine was wearing the curly, caramel wig again, both of them largely unrecognisable. Together they visited several car yards that also sold a variety of RV's with options to fit any budgets. After several hours and heads full of facts and figures, they returned to where Vincent waited, piling in to their respective vehicles and heading for a somewhere to talk over what they'd seen. Unseen by any of them, a car pulled out and started to follow at a discreet distance.

Vincent had been feeling fidgety all day, ever since he's had to wave goodbye to Catherine and J.T. The only feelings he could relate it to was the way he'd felt around Gabe, his skin felt too tight and his mood kept swinging from calm to enraged back to calm again. Even the beast he'd taken down in New York hadn't provoked this reaction. He'd carefully swept the area for anyone or anything that might be provoking his sixth sense but there's been nothing, it just niggled at him, warning him that something was imminent, shadowing him like a storm cloud. When Catherine and J.T returned he was relieved, the feeling subsiding the further he drove the truck away from the town center. He didn't tell them his fears right away, not trusting his reactions entirely.

When they reached a pretty green space they pulled over and got out, a picnic table acting as a useful surface to lay out brochures and J.T's notes.

Vincent listened with half an ear to what they were saying, his skin prickling as he stared around the area trying to analyse his reactions. Nothing appeared to be threatening, no one showing any particular interest in them or their vehicles, it was both frustrating and a relief.

"Vincent?" Catherine voice drew him back to the present. "What is it? I'd swear you haven't heard a word."

He turned to face her, a frown drawing his brows together. "I don't know what it is, by something is coming. I can't explain it, but it's like when a storm is approaching the air crackles, you can feel it."

Both J.T and Catherine did a cautious sweep of the surrounding park, like Vincent seeing nothing that could be remotely threatening.

"They can't have found us already...could they?" Catherine asked.

"Not unless they have a tracking device..." J.T trailed off, his face going slack. "Oh my God, I never checked, we never checked, all this time and we never thought...shit!"

"Do you mean in the vehicles, in our stuff?" Vincent asked.

J.T shook his head. "No. In you." He started to gather up his notes and journals. "We never checked what is inside you. We need to find an x-ray or some sort of metal scanner right away."

"If they have a tracking device why didn't they just hone in on us at Sal's?" Catherine asked. "Or at any number of times we've been vulnerable. Why now?"

"I don't know, maybe it has a limited range, maybe the signal was blocked by something, maybe his body broke it, how the fuck should I know. But if his spidey sense is ringing alarm bells, then trouble isn't far away. We need to find somewhere we can break into and fast."

"Break in?"

J.T laughed harshly. "Have you ever made a hospital appointment? It could take weeks to get near to the machinery, and then only with a doctor's referral. We need to find out what they put in Vincent now, today and cut it out."

"You're assuming that it will be close to the surface. What if it's not?" Catherine asked, her voice edging towards panicky.

"I'll cut it out, if it's in there." Vincent replied grimly.

They did a quick check through the local yellow pages first for any suppliers of devices similar to those used by airport security, but didn't find any. Breaking into the local airport to steal one was added to the list of possibilities if all else failed. Next they checked out any radiology clinics, finding two but only one that might be easy to be break in to. All through the day Vincent's anxiety increased, his grip on his see-sawing emotions slipping but still there was no evidence that anyone was following them or taking an inordinate interest in their meandering course through La Grande. With the day drawing to an end they booked into a camp ground under their assumed names and started to prepare for the nights operation.

Catherine once more donned her black outfit, while J.T and Vincent dressed similarly. Close to midnight they set out in the truck, taking side roads and keeping as low a profile as possible. They reached the target area and parked nearby, out of sight of any possible police cruise by. Catherine was to keep watch while J.T and Vincent broke in. Catherine helped pinpoint the basic alarm system and disable it, a useful skill she'd picked up as a bondsman. Vincent picked a side door lock and they slipped inside, leaving Catherine to watch their back.

They quickly found the necessary room, J.T only lighting the operators booth while Vincent, able to see quite easily in the dark, stripped off and lay on the table. J.T slipped in the film cassettes under the table and then took a series of x-rays while Vincent lay there. As quickly as he could J.T processed the film, stuffed them in big envelope and made ready to leave. Vincent, once more clothed, joined him then together they left, Vincent leading the way out to where Catherine should have been waiting.

There was no sign of her.

Thinking she may have returned to the truck they hurried back to it, finding it as they left it and still no evidence of Catherine. All day Vincent had been holding in the Beast, but now it cut loose, J.T standing out of his way as his friend transformed, growling deep in his throat and sending J.T's hair standing on end all along his arms and back of his neck. Intellectually he didn't fear Vincent, knowing his friends level of control, but on a visceral level J.T knew he was prey, his body screaming at him to flee. Vincent raised his head, scenting the night air like a blood hound. As quickly as he could, J.T loaded himself up with all their available weaponry and spare ammo, then did his best to keep up with Vincent who was retracing their steps back to the clinic, where he easily picked up Catherine's trail and started to follow. It led further into the maze of alleys and lanes behind the store fronts, the area deserted with only the occasional car tooling past in the early hours.

"No way she came here willingly," J.T muttered, puffing to keep up with Vincent.

In the darkness he nearly tripped over him, the Beast crouched down beside a wall, listening.

"What is it?" J.T hissed, Vincent snarling at him in response. J.T waited, then Vincent was off again, covering the ground in a loping run, heading for a building off to the right. It was starting to drizzle steadily, coating the ground with a film of water and diffusing the few street lights visible.

Suddenly J.T realised he'd lost Vincent, the Beast no longer in front of him. He looked back the way they'd come but there was no one there, nor anywhere that he could see.

"Vincent?" He hissed. "Where the fuck are you?" Cursing his inattention and wishing he had half of Vincent's senses to guide him, J.T hunkered down and tried to find any clue as to where his friend had gone.

Vincent galloped over the roof tops in pursuit of Catherine and her kidnappers. J.T was forgotten in his need to find her, the trail leading him to a small warehouse showing just a single light where all its neighbours were black.

Silently he ghosted down the fire-escape to peer in the window. There was little to see except a lone figure bound to a metal chair, her head bent, a blindfold and gag tied around her eyes and mouth.

Incensed beyond reason, Vincent took a step back then launched himself through the window, all pretense of remaining unseen melted in the fury of seeing his love held captive. Rolling to his feet he jumped to the floor, landing like a cat then racing with blinding speed to her side, slashing at the ropes binding her to the chair. When he ripped off the blindfold he found himself not looking at Catherine at all, but a complete stranger dressed in her clothes and wearing a wig.

The woman unwound herself from the chair and stood up, the ropes and rags dropping to the floor, quickly followed by the wig. Vincent took a pace back, snarling at the stranger, baring his teeth and flexing his claws. The woman, now with short red hair, put her head back and looked at him down her nose.

"They told me you were a fearsome sight when roused, I can see why they all ran a mile when the assignments were handed out. Not me. I asked for this assignment."

Vincent, thwarted in his search for Catherine, drew back another pace, the Beast subsiding enough for him to speak. "Where is she?"

The woman cocked an eyebrow. "Somewhere safe." She plucked at the clothes. "I don't think much of her taste."

She smelt like Catherine because of the clothes, even had a similar slim figure and athletic build, but her black eyes were cold, almost snake like. Vincent held on to his temper with difficulty.

"Aren't your orders to kill me?" he asked.

"All of you, actually. My team will be picking up your friend J.T, so soon we can have a happy reunion. I've missed you, Vincent. How long has it been now, ten, twelve years?"

"Not long enough, Lafferty. I thought you died in the cull."

"It was supposed you did too, but you escaped. Shame you forgot about your buddies. Got your memory back yet?" she taunted, baring her teeth to display prominent fanged eye teeth.

"Enough. Where's Catherine?"

"I told you, quite safe. Muirfield are going to be so happy to get their hands on her. She's breeding, the first true cross-species hybrid offspring. I was told that I was sterile, but apparently that only applied to the women in the tests. Your little swimmers must be potent!"

They started to circle each other. Vincent not taking his eyes of her. The Beast simmered behind his golden eyes, blue veins pulsing up his neck and along his arms, ready in an instant for the attack he was sure was coming. Karen Lafferty had been one of the strongest once the dna shots started to work, her side effects different from his or any others. After her outburst he hadn't seen her again until now, suspecting that she had been terminated along with the rest. Apparently not.

"So you're a Muirfield agent, and you say I'm disloyal."

Lafferty laughed. "Choice wasn't an option. I didn't have anyone to rescue me," she snarled, eyes glowing yellow. "I was kept sedated until long after it was all over, and every body I knew either gone or dead. It took them awhile to figure out the right combination to give me the necessary control, but hey," she held out her arms. "Here I am. Ready to play, Vincent?"

"What do you mean combination? Can't you control your change?"

"You're a one in a million, Vinny. If the old man hadn't had you dumped in New York, you'd still be their prize guinea pig. They haven't figured out yet why you can change at will and the rest of us can't without a shit load of pharmaceuticals. Oh, and if you were looking for the tracker, it's hidden where even you, Doctor Keller, won't be able to remove it." She appeared to ponder her own words. "At least not unless you're prepared to cut open your own brain!" she laughed shrilly, the sound echoing around the space. A door banged somewhere close by and they stopped their circling to watch a small group of heavily armed men approach, J.T Forbes pushed to the front. J.T raised a hand to wave at Vincent, his face battered and bleeding.

"Don't think much of their welcoming committee, they could use some lessons in..." he never got to finish, one of the men hitting him in the stomach with a gun butt, winding him.

Vincent growled and the men stopped in their approach, J.T slowly sinking to the ground in a wheezing heap.

"Don't mind me, big guy, I just need to catch my breath." J.T gasped.

Vincent turned back to Lafferty. "What now? You have us all, so why not kill us?"

Lafferty stood with her hands on her hips. "Are you really so keen to die? Don't you want to see your little breeder again?"

"Catherine, her name is Catherine." Vincent ground out, his blood pulsing through his veins hot and angry.

"Before I bring her in I thought we could have a little one on one time, a little one two, so to speak, to see who's top dog, or top cat depending on your preference."

Vincent cocked his head at the men with guns. "Hardly a fair fight, if I win they shoot me and J.T."

Lafferty pretended to consider. "True. But if you don't fight I'll have to hurt him even more." she flexed her fingers, long claws extending to punctuate her threat.

"Drop the bitch." J.T called out, the men around him raising their gun butts again, but Lafferty stayed them.

"You can pummel his lily ass later. Just don't interfere, do I make myself clear?"

The team leader nodded. "Perfectly."

Vincent shed his jacket, leaving him in a black tee shirt and black jeans. Lafferty discarded Catherine's jacket and polo neck, keeping her undershirt and leggings, her well muscled physique a feminine version of her opponent, but with black instead of blue veins starting to appear beneath her coffee colour skin, eye gleaming bright yellow to Vincent's deep gold. Both slipped into their full beastly transformations, claws lengthening and teeth bared. Lafferty bounced on her feet, her elbows bent away from her body to display her claws, while Vincent stalked around her, fingers splayed, eyes never leaving her.

Lafferty made the first feint, making an impressive acrobatic leap that carried her over Vincent's head, her talons raking at him but he wasn't there, having moved in a blur out of her reach. As he moved he reached up and raked Lafferty, leaving four lines across her lower back. She screamed her anger, while he roared back, crouched on his haunches ready to move again. The men watching were silent and intent, J.T also watching the combat with intense scrutiny. Apart from Gabe, this was the only other cross-species test subject he'd seen other than Vincent, plus she was his first female beast, the differences as fascinating as the similarities.

Both creatures were inflicting surface wounds on the other, Lafferty moving with darting grace, flashing in to score blows, but not always escaping without injury. As the battle wore on both were marked and blood splattered, sweat darkening Vincent's ripped tee-shirt while Lafferty was moving more stiffly, not as spritely as before. The space had echoed with their challenging roars to start with but now they were husbanding their strength, only the sound of their harsh breathing and the occasional growl breaking their concentration.

Lafferty tried to get under Vincent's guard, aiming to kicks his legs out but Vincent anticipated and she landed awkwardly, her adversary taking advantage and pinning her to the floor where she writhed and screamed, raking his arms but unable to break his hold. He dragged her upright, her back now against his front, his arm about her neck in a strangle hold. She raked his arm but he held on, squeezing until she relented from sheer lack of oxygen and the pressure brought to bear on her neck and spine.

"Let him go," his rasping breath was hot against her ear and she snarled, legs and feet still looking for purchase despite her body being held off the ground.

Vincent slowly bent her heat to the side, exposing her neck and lowered his head, teeth bared, ready to rip the skin. The men watching understood the threat even if Lafferty couldn't see what he was doing. Vincent held their stares until they melted back, guns left on the ground, J.T no longer their hostage.

Lafferty was no longer struggling, her mouth open trying to draw in air, the glow leaving her eyes and her claws subsiding until she had reverted back to human once more. She hung in his unrelenting grip like a rag doll.

Vincent didn't let go, nodding to J.T who got up and recovered his own confiscated weaponry then gathered together the dropped guns, dumping them into a discarded oil drum for good measure. Vincent held Lafferty as if she weighed nothing, keeping her body between him and the men now standing watching in the shadows. J.T was behind him as he slowly backed towards a doorway. Lafferty had ceased to move altogether, passed out from lack of oxygen and blood loss. Vincent looked no better but he ignored his wounds, backing towards the door and beyond before tossing Lafferty to the ground to land in a boneless heap on the floor.

Together they raced down the hallway, checking each room as they passed until they reached one with the door shut and locked. Barely pausing to shoulder it open, Vincent burst through and sent the guard inside flying through the air to land in a tangle of arms and legs in the corner. J.T was already standing next to the figure on the bed, but he was pushed roughly aside as Vincent reached down to lift Catherine up, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her hands and feet were secured by zip ties which J.T cut, the plastic leaving behind red welts.

Vincent indicated the window, J.T smashing the glass and clearing the shards before climbing out, Vincent behind him, the sound of drumming feet clearly audible in the hallway beyond the room. Not pausing, Vincent dove through the window, Catherine in his arms and ran after J.T just as men burst through the doorway, Lafferty at their head. Racing ahead, Vincent's former platoon buddy dove out the window, back in full beast mode again and chased after the fugitives. J.T looked back and saw her, immediately pulling out one of his tranquilizer guns loaded with a dart containing his special formulation. Turning to make a stand he waved Vincent on and took aim. Dressed in black he was not instantly noticeable and Lafferty didn't slow in her chase, seeing J.T and his gun at the last moment, too slowly to dodge the dart that impaled itself in her side, making her stumble and somersault, her scream piercing the night. She fell almost at J.T's feet, her hand reaching out to rake him, but even as he watched the drugs took hold and the claws withdrew, along with all the other beastly attributes until all that was left was a slim, athletic woman laying unconscious on the rain slick concrete. With her men pounding after her, J.T took off, dodging around a corner and almost cannoning into Vincent.

"What the fuck are you standing here for? Let's go!" J.T hissed, the two of them heading further into the maze of alleyways and leaving behind Muirfield's best to lick their wounds and report their failure to their superiors.

The truck was where they'd left it, J.T jumping into the driver's seat while Vincent climbed in the back with his still insensible lover. He was shaking with reaction, both to the fight and to finding Catherine in this state. He listened carefully, ignoring the engine noise to hear the faint little heartbeat behind the steady beat of its mother. The baby was still alive. Giddy with relief he lay down at Catherine's side and cradled her, stopping her from rolling around as J.T drove them back to the camp ground to collect his own vehicle.

Lafferty had given him a great deal to worry over, not least that he carried a tracer in his head, making him a deadly lodestone if he stayed with Catherine and the child. They had escaped this time, but next they would send some one not as sentimental as Lafferty, someone who would kill first and ask questions later. Muirfield would also soon know about Catherine and the baby, putting her now at risk of not being killed but possibly a fate worse than that, of being captured and their child experimented on. The mere thought made him simmer in impotent rage, his body shaking as he fought not to transform into his Beast. The truck slithered to a halt and J.T soon threw the back of the truck open.

"Is she alright, did they hurt the baby?"

"They knocked her out, but the baby is still alive and well." Vincent reported, easing himself away from Catherine and covering her with a blanket. With her secure he dragged himself to the back of the truck and sat on the tailgate.

"Christ, you look terrible." J.T remarked, giving a small whistle. "We don't have much time but I think you should get cleaned up, double-quick. Thank God she didn't get to your face, it would take some explaining if the police stopped you and saw you all bloodied and scratched."

Vincent nodded, his adrenaline high starting to wear off and leaving him drained. He snagged a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom block, taking as little time as possible to shower and change before returning to their small cavalcade. J.T was waiting for him with a hot coffee and something to eat. "Need to keep your strength up, we'll have to keep on the move now, we have no choice. Whatever is inside your head will lead them to us if we stop too long in any place more than a night."

"I know. Keep heading south, you lead I'll follow. We need to change these vehicles, so keep on the eighty-four until we reach Caldwell, maybe we can lose them in the desert. If Catherine wakes up before daybreak I'll flash my lights."

Within minutes there were back on the highway heading south out of La Grande.

Back at La Grande, Karen Lafferty awoke with a splitting headache and stared up at a man she didn't know.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Nobody. And I'm afraid you are a nobody too."

Karen swung her legs over the side of the cot that had formerly held her captive. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Try and transform, if you can."

Karen scowled up at him, giving her volatile temper free rein. She hurt all over so it wasn't difficult and now some asshole was leering down at her. Unfortunately it didn't have the desired effect. There was nothing to draw on, no rage no rush of adrenaline, no beast to call on.

As realisation stole over her she closed her eyes and looked inside herself. Her Beast was never far from the surface but now it was gone as if it never existed. Her eyes popped open and she suddenly felt truly afraid.

The man watching her reactions gave a grunt. "As I suspected. J.T Forbes is a lot smarter than we gave him credit for. You, my dear, are of no further use to us." Lifting his arm he pointed his pistol at her face and pulled the trigger, a neat black hole appearing on Lafferty's forehead and pitching her back against the pillows, her eyes staring sightlessly up at her killer.

Turning away and walking out the room, the man approached the team of men waiting for their next command. He let them see the pistol in his hand before tucking it back in his pocket.

"The signal is tracking south, but getting fainter by the hour. An agent will be joining you soon to take over this operation. Your mission has changed from capture and kill, to recover and return. Muirfield no longer wants these people dead, they want them very much alive, especially the woman. Extreme care must be taken to ensure she doesn't lose the child. There is no room for negotiation in these orders. Vincent Keller, Catherine Chandler and James Forbes are to be taken alive by whatever means possible. Is that understood?"

A chorus of assent rumbled through the men.

"Then until the new agent arrives, I suggest you keep a low profile and get rid of the body."

Dawn was breaking when they heard a car pull up outside the building. On alert they deployed like a well oiled machine, all weapons trained on the door to the outside. It opened and a man walked in, dressed as they were all in black. His face was hidden in shadow but the team leader ordered his men to stand down and approached the newcomer, saluting.

"My men are ready to continue the pursuit, Sir."

The stranger walked further into the room, his features becoming clear. Pale blue eyes surveyed the deserted warehouse with cold disinterest.

"Everything taken care of?" the man asked.

"As ordered, Sir."

"Good. Get you men loaded up, we head out in five."

He stood there as the men in black streamed out the door behind him and into the strengthening sunlight. Lifting his head he sniffed the air, drawing in the differing scents of blood and sweat, dust and decay. Satisfied that he had the scent of his prey firmly fixed in his memory, the man turned to leave, the sun striking his face full on. It was a face that any one of the fleeing trio would have recognised straight away, the features pleasantly handsome and soft, belying the creature that lurked below the surface. Without a backward look, former medical examiner for the NYPD, now agent for the organisation known as Muirfield, Evan Marks walked to his car and got in.

The hunt was on.


	14. Chapter 14

Catherine dragged her eyes open slowly. Her head felt woolly and her mouth was dry, her tongue coming out to wet her lips. She murmured Vincent's name and suddenly he was there.

"Catherine, sweetheart, here drink this."

A glass was held to her lips and she sipped, the water like nectar. Her head started to clear and she tried to open her eyes again. This time Vincent swam into focus and she managed a smile.

"What hit me?"

"You've been asleep some time. What's the last thing you remember?"

Catherine screwed up her face as she tried to think, her brain still muzzy. "I was waiting for you guys to come out of the clinic...I think I heard something..." She shook her head slowly. "That's all I've got." Suddenly her eyes widened and panic slackened her face. "The baby! Vincent?"

"It's fine, the heat beat is still strong and regular. You're both fine." He bent down and kissed her forehead, stroking her hair back as he listened to her racing heart start to slow to normal again.

Catherine closed her eyes in relief and drew in a deep breath, willing her panic away. A moment later and she opened them again to gaze up into his face, the love shining back at her suffusing her with warmth. This time when he kissed her it was on the lips, sweet and soft, his hand lacing with hers where it rested on her belly.

After a few pleasurable minutes they parted and Catherine sat up on her elbow to drink more of the water.

"Where are we?" she asked, passing him the empty glass.

"Well, while you were playing sleeping beauty, we left La Grande and we are currently taking a break at Winnemucca, Nevada."

"Where?" Catherine peered out of the windows of the canopy, seeing distant dun coloured hills above trees and trailer roofs. Vincent grinned as her confused expression.

"Winne mucca...you've been out for over eight hours," he explained. Catherine looked at him closely, searching for signs of injuries or wounds.

"What happened while I was out for the count?"

Vincent looked out at the view, turning over in his head what he should tell her. "I came looking for you, along with J.T..."

"Did you get the x-ray's done? Is there a tracking device?" Catherine interrupted.

Vincent nodded, his expression sombre. He tapped the side of his head. "It's in here."

Catherine gasped. "Oh, Vincent. What are we going to do?"

"Let me finish, there's more to tell. We came looking for you. You'd been taken by a team sent by Muirfield. Their leader was a woman I hadn't seen in nearly thirteen years. I thought she was dead, caught up in the cull when the Chimera project was shut down, but she wasn't."

"You knew her?"

"It was Karen Lafferty, a member of my special ops unit, one of the test subject like me." Vincent looked out the window again. "We fought and after we escaped with you J.T shot her with one of his anti-beast darts. After that we got as far as possible before we had to stop to sleep and see how you were."

Catherine knew there was more to it than that, but didn't push him. "So they can track us. Is there no way we can block the signal?"

"J.T is working on that, but for now we just have to keep moving. We're only stopping here long enough to work out our next move and give J.T some downtime from driving."

"What about you?" Catherine reached over to trace her fingers down his face. "You need some downtime too."

Vincent caught her wandering finger between his lips. "I wanted to make sure you were okay before I took a break. Now you're up, I'll just need a couple of hours and we can get on the road again. I don't want them to be able to get too close again. If they sent one Chimera after us, they'll send more."

Catherine shifted on to her knees and wrapped her arms about his neck, Vincent encircling her with his arms so that they fitted together seamlessly. Catherine stroked the hair at his nape and kissed his neck. "I'll keep watch over you now, over you both." They pulled apart and Vincent lay down in the same spot she'd been in. Catherine gathered some supplies together, kissed her lover, then left the truck. She stretched and surveyed the camp ground, a couple of the older residents lifting a hand in welcome. Catherine smiled at them and walked the short distance to J.T's camper. A quick glance through the window showed him fast asleep, on his back, the faint rasp of snoring heard at regular intervals. She left the shade of the trees and trekked to the bathroom block, taking a blessedly hot shower and changing into fresh clothes before returning to the two vehicles. Vincent was well asleep, his head buried in the pillows when she checked on him. Hanging the towels on a nearby line, she hopped into the cab and sorted through the paperwork crammed haphazardly about the dashboard. Feeling peckish she munched on some apples she found in a paper bag while she perused the various map books and traced the route from La Grande to their current bolt hole.

The sun was setting when Vincent tapped on the slide window between the truck cab and canopy.

"Hey." Catherine smiled at his tousled hair and sleepy expression. "Sleep well?"

"Better than expected. How are you feeling?"

"Very awake. As soon as J.T get's back we're out of here."

"I'll grab a quick shower before he gets back." He snagged the bag and peered inside. "How many of these did you eat?"

Catherine laughed. "I left you a couple."

Vincent snagged the two remaining and disappeared into the back of the truck. A few moments later she watched him saunter over to the shower block, appreciating the long line of his naked back and broad shoulders. She noticed a couple of other woman talking together, also enjoying the view as Vincent passed them, towel slung over his shoulder and spare clothes in hand. Ten minutes later and he did the reverse trip, the woman making some comment and Vincent smiling at them before he returned to their truck, towelling his hair as he walked.

Catherine leaned across the cab. "You have an appreciative audience."

Vincent leant on the window frame and tossed the wet towel at her. "They thanked me for the show." he said, grinning. J.T rolled up a minute or two later. Catherine took down the now dry towels off the line and bundled them into the back of the truck.

"Ready when you are J.T." she called, getting into the driver's side, while Vincent climbed in the other. Together the two vehicles rolled out of the RV park and headed into Winnemucca, keeping to the back roads and minor highways before continuing on their heading south.

As they departed the city on the southern side, a black car and two black SUV's entered the outskirts on the northern edge. They paused briefly as the RV park as a matter of course, their lead Agent only needing to step out of the car to confirm his quarry had been there but recently left. A few quick questions and it was clear they'd missed the trio by minutes. Cursing under his breath he ordered his team back into their vehicles and back on the road. The gap between hunter and hunted was closing fast.

In a quirk of luck or fate, Catherine, who was the lead, had decided, after looking at the maps, to get off the interstate eighty just after Humbolt Lake and take a side trip to a small oasis called Fallon.

Their pursuers were too far behind to see the two vehicles take the number eighty-three turn off, and by the time they came level there was no sign of the vehicles headlights to suggest that anyone had turned off to such an obscure heading. This tiny decision meant that the hunters kept heading south heading for Reno, and their quarry fell behind, arriving at Fallon and taking the time to fuel up and have a bathroom break only a few degrees east of them. After Fallon the trio stayed on route ninety-five, know as the Freedom Road, still heading south east, passing through the dark night between towering buttes and endless tracts of grit and scrub, the road virtually empty of traffic apart from the occasion big rig using the bypass. They passed a huge body of water at Lake Walter, the stars reflected in its torpid waters, arriving at dusty Hawthorne, an army ordnance dump, the bunkers plainly visible as neat rows in the long dry bed of the receding lake. They paused in a lay by and read the towns history off a visitor centre board, stretching their legs and walking over to peer in the windows of the local museum, the outside showing a display of disabled bombs, guns and other ordinance. Vincent took over the driving from there on, leaving behind Hawthorne to follow route ninety-five into the mountains, heading more east than south, but with the ultimate destination of Las Vegas.

They finally stopped just north of Beatty, a sign at the entrance to the Bailey RV park boasting of hot springs, a luxury too good to pass up. Travel weary and covered in dust, they booked in, the early hour too soon to take in more than the towering mountains surrounding them before they curled up in their respective vehicles and slept.

In Carson City, many miles to the west, Agent Marks cursed under his breath as each of the team reported in with no sightings of the fugitive in any of the camps grounds or lay-byes throughout the city. Eventually even his men had to sleep or they would start making fatal mistakes.

It was time for him to check in. He punched in the number.

"Evan. Are you close?"

"We missed them somehow, they must have turned off. We have to backtrack and find them again."

"More delays? I was expecting more from you. Lafferty was weak but our quarry is weaker."

"It will only mean a delay of a day or so, Sir. I'm confident we'll be back on their trail in twenty-four hours."

"Make it twelve." The line went dead and Evan curled his lip at the phone before slipping it into his pocket. His men would have to make do with three hours sleep.

"Oh. My. God. I've died and gone to heaven." said Catherine, wriggling her toes in the gravel bottom of the pool.

Catherine's blissful statement made Vincent smile. Soaking in the hot pools was indeed a wonderful experience after the dusty trip getting to them. They had slept late, eventually joining the other tourists taking advantage of the natural resource.

After their precipitace escape from La Grande they all needed a brief respite, a chance to wash clothes as well as bodies. They knew it wouldn't be for long, but for a few moments they indulged and soaked their cares away.

After a couple of hours of housekeeping they loaded up and were gone before the sun sank, still determined on their course east. It would take them only a little under two hours to reach Las Vegas, a city big enough to provide enough cover for a decent meal and a proper bed for a night.

They each carried a small personal arsenal, all of them keeping watch on each other and those around them. They wouldn't be caught out a second time.

Las Vegas at night was a spectacular sight, one wasted on those driving in to the city via the back roads and less traveled routes. A motel well off the main strip provided shelter for the night, the lure of the bright lights muted amongst the packed housing and ubiquitous palm trees.

J.T had once again taken over the table in the room, making it his makeshift laboratory, pegging up the x-rays taken in La Grande and setting up a back-light to view them more closely. In their rush to put distance between them and any pursuers, they had not taken the time to evaluate the new information. Now they would take that time.

"I want to take a sample of your blood, Catherine."

"Mine?"

"Why?

Vincent and Catherine both replied at same time.

"Because I have a suspicion and I need to confirm it." said J.T.

"Suspicion about what?" Catherine asked, sharing a worried look with Vincent.

"I don't want to say until I confirm it...please, I just need to draw a small sample."

Catherine took off her jacket and offered her arm. J.T performed the small procedure and retired to his table. He had a microscope set up along with various small bottles of chemicals and paraphernalia.

Vincent and Catherine watched as he studied, wrote, studied again, made more slides, added different substances to them, studied them again then jotted down notes. While he worked, Catherine wandered over to the x-rays and stared at them, seeing the circles drawn on them indicating anomalies in the images, some explainable, others not so. The one of Vincent's skull clearly showed something that shouldn't have been there, the opaque white shape circled in red.

Catherine had found the tiny scar on his scalp, hidden under his hair, further evidence of the tracking device lodged against his brain. It was supposed that it might even have something to do with Vincent lost memories of his time as a prisoner of Muirfield.

Eventually J.T lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, taking his glasses off, before turning to face his interested audience.

"Don't keep us in suspense, what is it?" Catherine asked.

"I had a suspicion when you said you were pregnant, and it was confirmed by Lafferty. When you told me about how you discovered Vincent, and the story the man from Muirfield fed you."

"Get to the point, J.T." Vincent growled.

J.T drew in a deep breath, pressed his lips together and then spoke. "I think that everything that has happened, from Vincent being taken, then returned has been for one purpose only. To create a hybrid that doesn't need chemical support to maintain the transition. Lafferty stated that all the female test subjects were sterile, a side effect of the cocktail they were using, plus she needed drugs to keep control, as Gabe did. It is likely if it made the women sterile, it did the same to the men, which makes it even more miraculous that you and Vincent are having a baby. I don't think Vincent being returned to you was anything other than a plan to get you pregnant with his child and produce a hybrid. They put in a tracking device impossible to remove, so they knew where Vincent was at any given time since he was dumped in New York. That whole scene with that man from Muirfield, you biological father, was a set up, a scam to get you out of New York and throw you together, increasing the chances of you picking up where you left off. You had that scare just before Vincent was taken, and now you fall pregnant pretty much as soon as you have sex. You were using contraceptive, but that fails instantly, coincidence? I don't think so. Whatever they did to Vincent, apart from implanting that tracking device, made sure that the first time he had sex with you, it overcame any contraceptive, possibly even provided a fertility boost to ensure you conceived." J.T paused to draw breath, his audience silent. He continued. "I've been testing Vincent's blood and comparing it to my previous notes. It's different. There are anomalies I haven't seen before. I don't know if they are part of an evolution of his cross-species dna, or a new combination of experimentation done by Muirfield when they held him for a year. What worries me, and leads me to believe that this whole situation has been engineered, is that I'm now seeing those same anomalies in Catherine's blood work. Not yet at the same levels, but they are there and I'm betting that if I take another sample a week or month from now, the levels will be elevated."

"What does that mean? Are they harming the baby?" Catherine asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She was gripping Vincent's hand so tightly her knuckles were white with strain.

J.T shook his head. "Quite the opposite. There's nothing to indicate any harm, but it does mean that you may start showing the effects of the corrupted dna in your system."

His audience shared a look.

"You say that the man from Muirfield was a scam? He was dying, I can vouch for that." said Vincent.

"He might well have been. Convenient if he's not around for long to answer any questions. He told you himself he created the Chimera project, created you. He knew about Catherine's mother, knew that Catherine wasn't Thomas Chandlers child. But who's to say he was who he made out to be?"

Catherine held up her hand. "So, what you are saying is that everything has been an elaborate experiment to see if Vincent and I can produce a child?"

J.T nodded. "In a nutshell."

"And now they want me...us...back to see if their experiment, their lab rats are performing as expected?" Catherine kept her hand up to forestall J.T speaking. "And let me get this right? You are saying that because of Vincent and me being...together, I could be experiencing the same changes he went through?"

J.T didn't reply, only nodded his head slowly. Catherine stared at him in shock for a second then pushed away from Vincent and stood up, instantly starting to pace back and forth across the motel carpet, one hand on her hip the other cradling her forehead.

Vincent sat on the side of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his face covered by his hands, completely devastated by the revelations. He eventually raised his head, his hands now between his knees, slowly rubbing them together as he digested all he'd heard. At length he got up, Catherine stopping her pacing to stare at him.

"I have to go." Vincent stated flatly. "I'm the one carrying the tracking device. While I stay with you, I risk us all. They can't track you, J.T or Catherine, and especially our child, if I'm not there to pinpoint your location. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I don't think we have a choice. I'll lead them away, while you both head in the opposite direction. I should be able to keep them on my trail while you make your escape. Even if they catch up with me, you'll be long gone and beyond their reach." He met Catherine's agonised eyes and knew it was the right decision.

They met in the middle of the room, arms wrapping around each other, mouths meeting in a clash of lips and teeth, a desperate clinging of fingers as they fused and joined, one last embrace before they had to part.

J.T looked away, unable to bear the naked emotions on display.

Catherine was crying, sobbing as she tried to touch all of him at once, her hands cradling his face while she kissed him, his hands spread over her back, pressing her to him as if to imprint her body on his. As suddenly as they came together they pulled apart, Vincent holder her at arms length, his hands trembling as he let her go. They didn't speak, just stared into each others eyes, taking one last look before parting.

"I love you." Catherine whispered, her voice choked.

"I'm so in love with you." Vincent murmured back, taking a step away, widening the space between them. He took another step away, unable to turn from her. There was nothing more to say.

Catherine's belongings were transferred to J.T's camper, everything of hers expunged from the pick up. Vincent sat in the cab, the engine running, unable to make his hand move to the gear shifter, or his foot release the brake. He was still shaking, his body already aching with loss, his hands feeling useless and empty. The drivers door opened and she was there, pulling his head towards her to cradle it against her body, her lips kissing his head in a final benediction. He inhaled deeply, drinking her in, hearing the faint heartbeat of the baby inside her.

"I'll find you again," he said, his voice husky and low. "When it's safe, I'll find you."

He felt rather than saw her slight nod, then she was pulling away, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles to prevent them reaching out for her. The door closed and he was alone. He looked up just the once, meeting her dark eyes drowning in tears, his own vision blurred.

"Go." was her single command and he obeyed, his hands finally moving to put the truck into gear and lift his foot off the brake. As he pulled away he glanced upward for a last look in the review mirror, her face already indistinct as the distance widened, the rising sun behind her giving her body a halo. He saw her hand lift to wave and he turned away, savagely wiping his eyes with the back of one hand to clear them before turning out of the motel car park and onto the main road. He gunned the motor, the tires squealing as he floor the accelerator and roared off, the truck fishtailing before gaining traction, carrying him away from all that he cared about.

While Vincent drove the pickup south, out of Las Vegas, the hunters were entering from the west, picking up the stronger signal and setting them on his trail immediately, the convoy of vehicles passing right by the motel without a second glance. The ruse had worked.

In the motel J.T was packing up his testing equipment and journals, repacking the camper, not daring to look at the figure huddled on the double bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, unmoving except for the occasional hitch of her shoulders. At length he could prevaricate no longer.

"We have to go."

Catherine unfolded and got off the bed, following J.T out of the motel room and getting into the passenger seat of the camper while J.T returned the room key to the office. She stared out at the cars parked, the people moving back and forth, the palm trees swaying in the late morning sun, all of them oblivious to her aching loss. J.T climbed into the driver's seat and handed her a pair of sunglasses.

"Thought these might be a help. Gets pretty bright in the desert, and yours were broken, sorry."

She took them and put them on, pulling up her hoody to cover her head as well. J.T pulled out of the motel car park and headed in the opposite direction to the one Vincent had taken.

"How do you feel about San Francisco?" J.T asked, taking the off-ramp for route fifteen west.

Catherine answered him slowly. "Take me to the sea, J.T. I feel the need to breathe fresh, cool air again. I hate the desert." Her face was turned away from him but he could imagine her expression.

A similar one to his own.

"San Francisco it is then."


	15. Chapter 15

Catherine tore off the old month on the calendar and gazed at the new month. Had it really been five months since she'd had her life torn apart for the third time? Her mother's death, Vincent's kidnap, and finally his leaving to save her and their child. Each had been traumatic and left their scars, some still unhealed, each leaving their indelible impression on her psyche. Each time she had recovered and moved on, absorbed the blows, buried the impact, suppressed the emotions and got on with her life.

This time had been much harder than the rest. This time is wasn't just her wants and needs being affected, this time it wasn't just her being threatened by loss.

She looked down at the bump, stroking her hand over it with a fond smile playing over her lips. Inside, the child stirred as if feeling the sadness of its mother, a foot pressing against the hand still splayed across the distended flesh. Catherine smile widened. Despite it all, there was nothing that could take away the love she felt for this part of her, this creation of love between two people separated by cruel circumstance.

"Hey, baby. Not long now and you'll get to see me as well as hear me." As if understanding, the baby kicked again, Catherine giving a short laugh at the sensation. "Hmmm eager to come out, aren't you. Just a little bit longer and you'll be able to see the world. I know I'm looking forward to that day, as much as you are."

Turning away from the inoffensive reminder of how long it had been since she's seen Vincent, Catherine slowly paced to the kitchen table and sat down, bracing her hands on the table to lower herself carefully.

"Ooof, but you're a ton weight to carry about," she chided the bump. Picking up the vegetable peeler she started on the collection of carrots, potatoes and green veges waiting to be converted into sauce. If any one had told her a year ago she'd be looking the picture of domestic bliss complete with gingham curtains at the window and apron around her expanded waist she would have cheerfully shot the messenger between the eyes for their sick sense of humour.

They had never quite made it to San Francisco, the lure of the ocean landing them in the seaside community of Cambria, straddling the Cabrillo Highway up the California coast. They had found a furnished two bedroom that suited their needs and settled in. For the first month they were constantly on alert, looking over their shoulders, avoiding going too far from their bolt hole, keeping so low a profile they were virtually unknown by neighbours either side. When Catherine passed her four months landmark the constant nausea subsided and she bloomed. They had taken on the rental but it was a constant leech on their dwindling finances. J.T found a job, not as a scientist, but as a science teacher at the local community college, using a fraction of his talent but providing a regular pay check and access to the college's resources.

Catherine, in an effort to take her mind off her grief, took on a part-time job at a local copy center within walking distance of their home, giving her enough to top up J.T's income and keep them from dipping too hard into their remaining capital.

It helped, but only working three days a week left her with a great deal of time on her own, time to think and reflect on her choices, her relationships, her life. As she grew big with child she grew calmer, less introspective and gradually let go of her fear, preferring to remember the nights spent in his arms, of the love between them, warming herself at night with her memories of his taste, his touch, the feel of his weight on her. In the long hours she spoke to her child of its father, of his family, of her family of their adventures together, of the love they shared and the love they had for their child. She spoke of their sacrifices for a better future, of what they had done to give their child a chance of a normal life. She told the bump about the friends that helped them, the people they'd worked with, those that had lost their lives but were never forgotten, of loved ones scattered into hiding, their fate unknown.

The front door banged and J.T appeared, dropping his bag onto the floor and sinking gratefully into one of the kitchen chairs. He watched her for a moment then grinned.

"Look are you. You're positively glowing."

"And you look...I'm not sure what you look like."

"Like someone with exciting news." J.T reached down and dragged his backpack over. He delved inside and held up one of his journals. "I've been doing some research, nothing that will draw attention, but looking at established studies into splicing dna. They are mostly focused on plants and animals but it's a growing area of intense interest. Ever since Dolly, I've been keeping tabs on several laboratories around the world, reading their papers on gene therapy and hybridisation. Did you know they are trying to recreate a woolly mammoth from the dna of an animal found preserved in permafrost on the Russian steppes. The thinking is, that if they are successful they could recreate other extinct or endangered species."

"Didn't they cover this in that movie about dinosaurs?" Catherine asked, getting to her feet and carrying the bowl of prepared vegetables over to the stove. She emptied them into the saucepan and placed a lid on top.

J.T watched her move about the kitchen preparing a meal, her silhouette so alien to her usual slim outline, and yet she looked perfectly at ease.

"Common misconception, believing that movie was anything close to science. It was a fantasy. I'm talking about actual science being the studies of ape dna mixing with human, of mammalian mixing with bat, of pig organs for human transplants. That's science, that's cross species in the real world."

Catherine turned to look at him. "And you're giving me this science lesson because?"

"You know I've been trying to narrow down what dna was mixed in with Vincent's."

"No, I thought you'd given up on that months ago. What's the point, J.T ?"

"If I can identify the dna, I can maybe develop a filter to screen it out of the blood. There's a technique of using jellyfish inspired adhesive strands to latch on to cancer cells, they call them microfluidic devices. It's very cutting edge stuff."

"Sounds fascinating, but hardly something we'll have access to." Catherine turned her attention to the saucepan, stirring the contents. "The only science I'm interested in is the combination of ingredients needed to make pasta sauce for dinner tonight."

J.T shook his head. "You don't get it. I might be able to screen out the cross-species dna in your blood."

Catherine put the lid back on the saucepan and swung around to face him. "Who said I wanted you too?"

J.T looked taken aback. "Of course you do, don't you?"

"No. In all these months, there hasn't been any symptoms or indications that I have any of the traits that Vincent has. So super strength, no glowing eyes, no irrational outbursts or beastly manifestations. Nothing to indicate I have anything other than a baby as a result of sex between Vincent and myself."

"But the blood..." J.T protested. Catherine cut him off by brandishing a serving spoon in his face.

"Nothing, J.T. Whatever your tests, they were wrong. Whatever you thought you saw, or whatever test you performed they were wrong. I am still one hundred percent human and so is my baby. I'm not turning into anything other than a mother of a perfectly normal, healthy child in a month or so's time."

J.T clamped his mouth shut, recognising futility when brandished a millimeter from the end of his nose. Catherine returned to stirring the pot, the warm aroma of tasty sauce making J.T's mouth water.

"Would you mind if I took a sample just to prove you right?" J.T finally asked.

"To prove me right ?" Catherine asked. "I might spare a drop or two, but I know I'm right, J.T."

That night she dreamed of Vincent, heard him calling her name in a voice full of pain and longing. Like all dreams when she awoke it was indistinct and fractured but her face was wet with tears, proof of the strength of the emotions running just under her veneer of calm. J.T had already left for the day when she dragged herself along to the kitchen, sun streaming in and mocking her lack of energy. Sitting at the table she contemplated her day, feeling the child shift inside. She rubbed at her distended belly and decided that a gentle walk around the neighbourhood might dispel the depression hanging over her. An hour later and she let herself out, locking the door behind her and walked down her driveway, checking the mailbox as she passed. Apart from utilities and flyers there was never anything else, no personal mail for people hiding from multinational corporations hell bent on messing with nature and creating Chimera. Leaving what was there to be picked up on her return trip, she headed off down the block at a steady pace. The air was warm and spiced with the scent of the sea, tiny sand drifts finding any corner or edge to heap in yellow triangles, the gutter showing miniature ripples left behind by the water that had sluiced down only a week before during a brief summer storm. The neighbourhood was a mixture of generations with kids voices drifting over fences as they made the most of the summer break, a dog barking at her when she passed. The light summer dress flapper around her legs as she turned the corner and faced into the sea breeze, lifting her face to the sun and breathing deeply. She sensed, rather than saw, the eyes watching her progress, which she had every time she'd walked the same route. They were never hostile, as far as she could tell, but she never saw anyone paying particular attention, just her years of police work telling her that someone was watching. As before she stopped and looked around, seeing nothing but houses and cars, trees and a dusty playground across the road currently populated with agile children screaming as they chased each other about and climbed on everything like monkeys.

Turning the corner again she couldn't shake the feeling, her pace quickening as she headed home, the sidewalk already hot beneath her light sandals, the sun starting to power down on her unprotected head. A cramp hit her without warning, making her gasp, and she reached to brace herself on a fence with one hand while the other cradled her bump. She panted to relieve the pain, chiding herself for walking to fast and not bringing a water bottle, thinking that the cause.

"You alright, dear?" an elderly voice broke in to her concentration and she looked up. A woman was approaching with a tiny dog on a lead.

"I'm fine, just walked too fast. It's just a stitch." Catherine explained, dredging up a smile to reassure her Samaritan. To prove her words she straightened up and leaned back to flex her spine and stretch out the cramp. The woman smiled uncertainly but carried on, glancing back before walking on briskly.

Catherine let her smile drop and grimly carried on, each step bringing her closer to home. With each footfall she berated herself for pushing too hard, not bringing any water, not wearing a hat, her internal monologue concentrating her mind to overcome the pain still pulsing in her side. With relief she saw her house, her pace slowing with home in sight. Pausing to empty the mail box she walked wearily up the path to her door and unlocked it, the dark coolness inside welcoming her in.

Dropping the mail on the table she shuffled into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, the cramp easing a little when she kicked off her shoes and lay down, pillows heaped up behind her.

Breathing slowly and deliberately she tried to loosen the knot of the cramp, rubbing the affected area and finding the most comfortable position for herself. The baby decided it was time to tap dance on her bladder and she groaned. She fought it for a few moment but finally gave in and carefully eased herself upright again to sit on the side of the bed. With a hand clamped to her side she got up and paddled to the bathroom, sitting down, her bottom lip caught by her teeth as pain still radiated around her middle. She didn't realise at first, but soon noticed that despite relieving herself she was still expelling liquid but not from her bladder. Her waters had broken.

For a moment she sat there in shock. It was too soon, she wasn't ready, J.T wasn't home, she was alone, it was too soon. Carefully she got up and checked the toilet, the amniotic fluid was clear with no blood. Relieved she flushed the toilet and hobbled into the bathroom leaving a trail behind her. A towel was quickly shoved between her legs to stem the trickle and she stripped off her dress and bra. Wrapping a larger towel around her, she shuffled back into the bedroom, suddenly fearful. J.T wouldn't be home for hours and anyway they still didn't keep cell phones and had never reconnected the land line at the rental. Sitting on the side of the bed she reviewed her options. Sure, her waters had broken but she wasn't in labour, and even if she was it could be hours before the baby was close to arriving, by then J.T would be home and he could take her to the hospital in plenty of time if needs be. She repeated this mantra to herself as she pulled on another soft, summer dress and eased herself back onto the bed, a towel below her and still between her legs. She pulled a book off the night stand and started riffling through the pages, looking for the chapter giving a blow by blow of the early stages of birthing a baby. As she read she relaxed further, the matter-of-fact words restoring her confidence that nothing was hurting the child and everything was relatively normal. She dozed, her disturbed night catching up with her, the book falling unnoticed to the carpet beside the bed.

A ripple of awareness tugged her awake, the sun coming through the windows at a different angle with the passage of time. A hard, pulling force constricted her stomach and she panted, the contraction not long, but enough to remind her that her baby was eager to see the world. The house was silent, with still a couple of hours before J.T arrived home. She was on her own.

The towel needed changing so she shuffled to the bathroom, needing to stop once as a contraction tightened her middle then released. Grabbing all the towels available and a glass of water, she penguin shuffled back to the bedroom and settled in to ride it out. The next few contractions were widely spaced, but she found that standing up and leaning against the wall helped her, as well as walking around the room, breathing as the book suggested.

That book became her lifeline. She read it aloud, she repeated its instructions and in between contractions looked at the illustrations of women going through the same ordeal she was.

The contractions were coming strongly when J.T finally arrived home. After dropping his backpack on the floor he starting going through the mail then dropped it when a he heard Catherine cry out. He rushed into the bedroom only to find her crouched on her haunches, using the end of the bed frame to brace herself as another contraction swept over her.

"You're in labour!"

"Of course I'm in fucking labour you idiot!" She cursed and groaned loudly, panting as another hit her in quick succession.

"What can I do?" J.T asked, noticing the discarded towels.

Catherine tried to straighten up but instead bent over as the muscles banding her abdomen tightened unbearably. "Uuurgh, I need to walk, help me walk..."

J.T went to her side and took her hand, finding his fingers gripped in a white knuckle vice as he helped her walk a few steps away from the bed.

"I swear I'll kill him myself if I ever see him again."

"Vincent?" J.T rashly asked.

"I cut his balls off and feed them to him...oh, God..." she panted, leaning heavily on J.T and almost bent double. "It's too soon...I'm not due for another month...uurrrgh!"

J.T did his best but eventually he had to help Catherine kneel beside the bed, her upper body leaning on the mattress while he massaged her back and shoulders to ease the strain.

Catherine rested her forehead on the covers, her fingers digging into the quilt as another contraction squeezed her relentlessly.

"Why isn't he here? It's his fucking child too, why isn't he here?" Catherine wailed, moaning as her body worked hard to bring her child into the world. Panting open mouthed she railed at fate and her absent lover. "He's a bloody doctor, he should be here to bring his child into this world, shouldn't he?"

"He'd be here if he could, you know he would, he loves you." J.T soothed, rubbing circles down her spine.

"He doesn't fucking love me, he'd be here if he loved me...oh, God...aaaaaagh!" Catherine screamed, the need to bear down becoming overwhelming. "This baby is coming now."

J.T helped Catherine lever herself upright, still on her knees but letting gravity aid the birthing process. After several hard contractions, she leant forward again, bracing herself against the bed as she pushed her knees wider, the baby crowning as J.T prepared a pile of towels to support the baby when it slid from its mothers body along with a rush of fluid. Catherine looked down at her child, all pink and white and still connected to her by a thick umbilical cord. J.T produced two clamps, waiting for the cord to stop pulsing before handing Catherine a pair of scissors. They exchanged a glance then she cut the cord. J.T was visibly moved, Catherine unaware that tears were trickling down her own face when she bent down to wrap and pick up her child. She could feel her abdomen rippling as further contractions worked towards expelling the placenta. Uncaring, she lay the baby on the bed and rested on her elbows, her shaky legs barely able to support her, staring down at the waggling limbs and hands within the soft towel. The child hadn't cried, but lay there opening and shutting its mouth, the fingers flexing as Catherine placed her finger against them.

"Aren't you just beautiful," she cooed, barely noticing when the afterbirth delivered, her attention all on her child. She accepted a pad of towelling from J.T, to stem the fluid still seeping, as well as his help getting to her feet and on to the bed.

"Isn't he beautiful, J.T?" she held the child up for him to see, her face alight with joy. "Isn't he just perfect?"

"I'll just go clean up. Did you want to keep the afterbirth ?"

"Ew..."

"I'll take that as a no then." Leaving mother and child together, he gathered up the soiled towels and wrapped the afterbirth, taking it away to dispose of. A short time later he returned. Catherine was cradling the infant in her arms, holding it to her breast, her head bent over while the baby suckled. She had wiped off its face, her finger now tracing the delicate, wrinkled features beneath the tuft of ink black hair. At one point the baby lost its grip on her breast, instantly opening its mouth and yowling at the loss, going red in the face. Shifting position, Catherine offered the other breast and the baby settled at once, eyes still screwed shut, suckling strongly.

Catherine lifted her head and saw J.T standing there. "See, a normal, beautiful, healthy baby, didn't I tell you?"

J.T nodded. "You told me." He watched the scene for a moment then turned away. "I'll...er...just go fix us something to eat, okay?" He looked back, but Catherine was too engrossed in her child to pay attention to him.

Leaving the room he walked into his to gather his equipment. Now was likely the only time he'd have a chance to test if the baby was as normal as its mother claimed it was. The placenta and cord would provide ample tissue samples for any number of tests, but he had to work quickly.

Three hours later he looked in on Catherine to find her sound asleep, the babe wrapped snuggly and placed in an open dresser drawer, cushioned by clothes and the last of the towels in the makeshift cot. It reminded him that he had some chores to do, the heap of soiled towels unlikely to wash themselves if he didn't do them. Completing that task took another hour or so, but eventually it was done and he could sit down to review his test results. It made for interesting reading. Despite Catherine's vehement claims, she was not unchanged, nor was the baby. They both carried traces of the corrupted dna, Catherine more so and the levels were climbing. It was quite likely she would start to manifest symptoms before too long if the replication continued at the same pace. As for the child, it shared its mother's blood and with growth could well accelerate the rate, becoming more like his father all the sooner. It was as he'd predicted from earlier results, but it didn't make it any more palatable. If the knowledge became known it would be further incentive for Muirfield to obtain the child to see with their own eyes that a breeding pair of chimera produced viable hybrid offspring. They would then be able to breed a race of stable super humans. The prospect was both horrifying and terror inducing. J.T shuddered and wished Vincent was here with them, not in the hands of Muirfield, as he suspected was his friends fate.

Heaven help them all.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Present**

Vincent opened his eyes and stared up into the face of a complete stranger. His head was splitting and the few lights positioned near to where he lay stabbed at his eyes, sending shards of pain deeper into his brain. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his body shivering in reaction to the pain and cold.

"He's awake." A voice intoned behind him and to his left.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice a rasp. He tried to open his eyes again, this time the light wasn't so harsh and a man's face swam into view, the bottom half covered by a surgical mask.

"I am doctor Marshall, you came to me to have something removed from you head. I'm pleased to report the operation was a success. You are free of the device they implanted."

"Fre-e-e?"

"Yes, young man." The doctor held up a small plastic container with a bloody something inside. "This is what they used. I have disabled it so there is no signal coming from it now."

"Pain." Vincent hissed, his forehead wrinkling with the agony pulsing inside his head.

He felt someone else move forward, a slight tug on a needle in his arm reacting to the person adjusting the drip. An icy sensation entered his arm and almost as once the vice squeezing his head relaxed.

"Thank you," he whispered, opening his eyes again to stare up at the surgeon. The man leaned forward to peer into Vincent's eyes, lifting the lids to gage their reactions.

"You were lucky. A different placement and I would have had to remove too much tissue, possibly leaving you disabled, blind or worse. Whoever implanted that device was an expert in neuro-microsurgery."

"Lucky I found you then," Vincent replied licking his dry lips.

"Luck had nothing to do with it. We found you. We've been looking for one of your kind for a very long time."

Vincent stiffened, suddenly alert. He pulled on his hand but it was secured to the gurney, the other as well. His ankles were similarly secured. After testing his bonds he subsided.

"What are these for?" he asked, rattling the chains.

Marshall gave a dry laugh. "We are well aware of your capabilities, Vincent Keller. We've read the case files from New York, as well as the notes made by Gabe Lowen and the field reports from Muirfield. Until we can talk to you, we're taking any and all precautions."

Vincent closed his eyes again, whoever had him and wherever he was, he would need to keep his wits about his and look for an opportunity. If the tracking device was indeed gone, then he was free of Muirfield, and free to return to Catherine. Her face appeared in his minds eye and he smiled. He didn't see the glance pass between Marshall and the others in the room. Whoever was controlling his meds adjusted the drip and Vincent slipped into unconsciousness without realising it.

When he next awoke it was without the brain pounding headache and the chains. Instead he was on a bottom bunk in what looked suspiciously like a prison cell. There was a sink next to a toilet in the corner, a window high up in the wall and floor-to-ceiling bars across the opposite end of the narrow room. He looked down at himself, noting the plain hospital scrubs and his bare feet. In the far corner, high up on the wall was a camera pointed at the bed, red light blinking on the top. He reached up with his hand to feel his head and encountered stubble where they'd shaved half of his hair off. There was no sign of a dressing, just a raised area of swollen flesh and hard, crusted stitches. Staring up at the boards supporting the upper bunk he reviewed how he'd ended up in the predicament he was in now.

**Three Months ago**

Leaving Las Vegas had taken all his strength, all his determination. Parting from Catherine was like cutting out his heart and leaving it bleeding on the ground to shrivel and die. He felt empty and angry that they'd been brought to this pass after already being apart for so long, and together for such a short time. The pickup ate up the miles, his foot planted on the accelerator, unmindful of speed cameras or traffic cops. He'd never driven with his blood up before, the beast barely leashed as he swerved around other cars and trucks, driving like one demented until a near miss with a heavily laden family car pulled him up short. If he had an accident now did he really want the blood of innocents on his hands just because he wasn't in control of himself ?

He slowed down to a more reasonable speed, the beast once more imprisoned and locked away. Taking stock of his surroundings he took a left turn on impulse at the next major intersection and found himself on the way to Flagstaff, crossing over into Arizona.

He paused to refuel at Flagstaff, grabbing a local map at the same time to better plan his route east. Not far behind him, a fleet of black cars negotiated the outskirts of Flagstaff and started to surround the red pinpoint flashing on their tracking device. Unaware of the net closing in on him, Vincent bought supplies and climbed once more into his pick-up. As he pulled out of the gas station a black SUV blocked his way, the pick-up slamming into the side of the vehicle even as men spilled out, guns pointed at the cab. Behind him another two cars blocked his escape, more men appearing, including one in a long coat and sunglasses, all of them heavily armed. Vincent almost felt flattered. One of the men yanked open the driver's door and made to pull him out. Vincent bared his teeth and the man pulled his hand back hurriedly. Not wanting to be shot full of holes, Vincent placed his hands on his head and got out of his truck. He was immediately spun around and slammed against the truck, rough hands frisking him for weapons. He turned his head to look at the man approaching, something about him raising the hackles on his neck. Something about the way he moved reminded him of someone. The man behind him pulled his arms down to secure them behind his back with zip ties, grabbing his upper arm to pull him around again so his back was against the pick-up. The man in the sunglasses approached but remained several feet away. A small crowd of interested spectators was starting to gather, cell phones flashing, the men in black forming a wall to block their view of Vincent. Without saying a word the man with the long coat gave a signal and Vincent was hauled, still at gun point, towards one of the vehicles behind him. He didn't resist and was shoved into the back seat, packed in on both sides by an armed escort. Without minutes they were pulling away from the gas station, Vincent's pick-up, driven by one of Muirfields men, joining the convoy.

They stopped four hours later in an industrial area of Albuquerque, the big roller door opening to admit all the vehicles and closing behind them. Once more the men all piled out of the cars surrounding the one containing Vincent with an impressive array of weaponry. He was dragged out and once more pushed up against the side of the car. Once again the man in the long coat approached, this time more closely. He removed his sunglasses and Vincent drew in a sharp breath.

"Evan!?"

The man he addressed smiled. "Agent Marks. I imagine you're wondering how I'm alive?"

"Kinda."

"Where is Catherine?"

"No idea." Vincent relaxed back against the car and smiled broadly. Agent Marks moved swiftly and backhanded his prisoner, snapping Vincent's head to the side with the force and producing a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. Marks remained impassive.

"You can do what you like, Catherine is safe from you and Muirfield." Vincent let the Beast appear, his eyes glowing a fierce gold. Evan snarled, his eyes turning amber, the two of them transforming, Vincent breaking his bonds as if they were tissue. The men around them backed away and brought their weapons to bear, multiple red laser dots appearing all over Vincent.

"Hold, Agent Marks!" An older man approached and waved the armed soldiers back. He pushed between Evan and Vincent, both younger men returning to normal in the face of a greater authority.

Evan shrugged and turned away, his eyes still flashing amber. Vincent rolled his shoulders and flexed his fists, turning to look at the newcomer.

The man returned his stare. "It is good to have you back in the fold, Vincent."

"You mean back under lock and key."

The man pursed his lips. "That will be up to you. Where is Catherine Chandler?"

Vincent stared back at him and said nothing. The man nodded. "To be expected. Will you come quietly or must I have you taken down first?"

"Quietly suits me. For now."

He was led away to a room with no windows and a metal door. Inside was a few bits of furniture and a bunk against the wall.

"Cosy," said Vincent.

"This is just a holding room until we arrange something more...secure. We'll be arranging to transport you in a day or so. Don't try to escape, there's nowhere to go and we will always find you." The man tapped his head to remind Vincent of the device lodged against his brain.

"As if I could forget." Vincent retorted, sarcasm lacing his voice.

The man left and the door shut solidly behind him, the sound of locks sliding into place as a final comment on the brief conversation.

They left him there for three days with only meal breaks to mark the passing hours. A search of his room revealed a concealed sink and toilet to take care of the most basic needs and the bunk was not completely uncomfortable. The ceiling was solid with the strip light protected by metal bars, even the security camera hidden behind a panel with clear glass in front and no edges to grasp. He spent his time remembering each and every expression of Catherine's, imagining her getting big with his child, of that child being born, of his love having a future where J.T stood in his place as protector.

His own future was too murky for him to even consider. While he carried the tracer in his head he was a liability to anyone he cared about. He couldn't go anywhere near Catherine or J.T for fear of betraying their whereabouts. He had no future, not with them.

The door opened on the fourth day and the room suddenly filled with armed men, two of them pulling him off the bunk and to his feet. He was frog-marched from the room and back to the loading dock to be pushed, this time without bindings, into the back of a black SUV. Within a few moment the vehicles were in motion, passing out of the roller door and into sunlight, Vincent peering beyond the two security men to the view beyond. There wasn't much to see except industrial buildings and city scape with a backdrop of ochre coloured mountain ramparts and scrub. The driver cracked a window and Vincent inhaled the air, closing his eyes to better sort through the differing scents to pass the time. No one spoke, the men either side of him staring out their respective windows, the men up front concentrating on the view ahead. A quick glance out of the back window revealed a further two vehicles bringing up the guard, which when added to the vehicle in front of them brought the convoy to four.

They were still heading east, Vincent supposing that the ultimate destination to be somewhere on the east coast, possibly even New York given the amount of activity there in the last few years. Without conversation or even a radio to listen to, Vincent watched the passing scenery for a while but its unchanging vistas almost hypnotised him, to the point he put his head back and closed his eyes, dozing as the miles slipped by. There were only a couple of bathroom breaks in the seven hours it took to reach Oklahoma City, the desert giving way to scrub and grassland expanse, in turn becoming the green crops of the farmlands on the outskirts of the sprawling city. Once there they approached the industrial heartland, probably to another anonymous warehouse to use as their base of operations.

Vincent rejoiced at each mile that passed, the more distance between all he loved and the enemy.

Instead of a warehouse, they drove straight through to the outskirts of the business district where he was driven to an underground car park on the outskirts, the buildings looking like towering banks and insurance companies. Down three floors and they pulled up beside an anonymous door set in the wall. Once more he was hustled out and escorted to the door, the men around him all on high alert, all their weapons trained solely on him. It was almost flattering. The door opened on to a foyer with a lift, no indicator of floors just one button, which a man pushed, the doors opening instantly. Crowded by the armed soldiers, Vincent entered the lift, only two of the soldiers, plus Evan and his superior with them. The inside panel was equally cryptic with the older man pushing just one button in the choice of three, the lift jolting into life and starting to descend. No one talked or made a sound.

After a relatively short trip the lift slowed and stopped, the doors opening and a reception committee of more armed men awaited them. Vincent allowed himself to be once more marched down a corridor and shoved into yet another room, this once looking depressingly similar to the previous one. There the armed men retreated leaving him with only Evan and the other man.

Vincent cast a glance around the room. "Don't think much of your decorator."

The older man gave a small smile. "This is just a holding cell. We're preparing suitable accommodation for you. Your continued cooperation will ensure what's to come is less disagreeable in the long run."

"What's to come? Care to enlighten me?"

The two men exchanged a brief look. Evan remained mute, letting the other man speak.

"We want to know where Catherine Chandler and her child are. There was ways and means of achieving this. In the meantime she can wait. Wherever she is, she'll have to surface to have the child. We can be patient."

Vincent gave a harsh laugh. "You won't find her. Catherine's smarter than all of you put together."

Evan curled his lip. "Not as smart as you think. She took you back into the fold and her bed fucking quickly without once considering it might all have been planned that way. Did she really imagine we'd give you back so easily and not keep you on a very long leash?"

The other man interrupted before Vincent could respond. "You're a valuable commodity, Vincent. You've proved your ability to reproduce and create a viable offspring. That opens up a whole world of possibilities not considered before. No Chimera has ever been able to sustain a living fetus to term, the corrupted dna somehow interrupting the reproductive cycle in women and sterilizing the men. You're unique, for your species." The man sounded proud, as if he'd had something to do with Vincent's biological make up.

"She hasn't carried it to term, yet. She could still lose it, then all of this will be for nothing." Vincent hissed, barring his teeth.

"Unlikely, but we have allowed for that possibility. When we've finished you will be potentially a father many times over, Vincent. The progenitor of a whole new race." The man had the audacity to look excited at the prospect. Evan kept his expression neutral. Vincent was appalled.

"Fuck you and fuck your plans!" He transformed in an instant, backhanding the man and sending him flying across the room. Evan also turned, but he wasn't quick enough, Vincent smashing him against the wall so hard he saw stars and slumped to the floor.

He yanked the door open, the sound of alarms going off around him. He raced down the corridor and met a group of armed men approaching at a run. Like a bowling ball he barreled into them, knocking them flying and their weapons out of their hands. Not stopping he raced on, passing rooms and spaces where white coated lab techs stared with open mouths and men started after him. Red lights flashed at regular intervals as he ran, flinging open doors, searching for an escape route. He could hear the pounding of booted feet behind him closing fast, his heart thumping as he looked for something to aid him. He burst into what looked like a canteen area, several people sitting at tables, all of whom jumped up as he crashed through tables and chairs, a woman screaming when he approached her. He was cornered, no door leading out of the place that he could see, only the one he'd entered by.

The security men were right behind him and he turned at bay, in full Beast mode. The people in the lunch room were cowering behind tables or up against the counter, as far from Vincent as they could get. Vincent roared at them, making them shrink further. The armed men approached and he prepared to rush them, not caring if they shot him. As he bunched his muscles, ready to spring, the men fired, some of the darts missing their target when Vincent attacked in a blur of motion, but enough so that when Vincent landed he was already out cold, sliding across the polished floor to where they stood, weapons still trained on him if he moved.

Evan arrived at a run, stopping when he saw the body on the ground, the men surrounding him.

"Stupid bastard, where the hell was there to run to? Get him up and secure him. They're waiting for him in lab five."

The security team picked up Vincent, by his arms and legs and carried him from the room.

The days and weeks that followed were a blur to him. He was drugged to keep him compliant and prevent him transforming. They drew blood, took samples, did innumerable tests, the faces of the lab techs merging into one meaningless persona. His personal guards dragged him from his holding cell back and forth to the various rooms until he had no idea how long he'd been there or even what or why he was there. He didn't remember what or if he ate, how long he slept for or what day it was. Occasionally he recognised Evan when he appeared, but his face seemed to swim and float like a balloon, making Vincent laugh and Evan's face scowl. He felt no pain, no fatigue or anything at all. He even stopped thinking of Catherine or J.T, his brain smothered and shrouded in cotton wool leaving him unable to think for himself or keep a coherent train of thought for longer than a second or two.

He sometimes heard voices talking in his room, their identity unknown and the words barely understandable in his confused state.

"We can't keep him like this for much longer"

"He's an animal."

"He's losing condition, too much more of this and he'll be useless to us."

"We have what we need, why don't we dispose of him, he's a liability?"

"We haven't managed to get a viable fertilisation. We need more time."

"He could be permanently brain damaged if the dose isn't lowered."

"We don't need a brain, we just need his balls."

"He's badly weakened."

The voices droned on and he turned away, drifting and untouchable, his dreams insubstantial and forgotten as soon as he awoke.

It was a day like any other, nothing to indicate if it was day or night, winter or summer. Boots were pounding down the hallway outside his room, voices indistinct through the door shouting, the distant howl of an alarm screaming in the background.

Vincent rolled over and tried to recapture his blissful state of sleep. He no longer cared what happened, or who did what to him, he just wanted it all to go away and leave him along. The noises outside continued unabated and he groaned. The muted lights in his room flickered then stayed on. He looked up at them. He was never in the dark, there was always a light. They flickered again, this time not coming on for several seconds. Something akin to interest made him roll onto his back and stare up at the ceiling. This time when the lights went out they stayed out. He could hear something else beyond his room, the staccato of gun fire and crump of explosions. He lay there, in the dark, and didn't move, his mind stirring at the unusual situation, but not enough to spur him into movement.

His door suddenly burst open and Agent Marks appeared, along with two other men.

"Get him on his feet. We don't have much time."

Smoke had billowed in with the arrival of the men and Vincent sniffed curiously. The men grabbed his arms and hauled him upright, pulling one of his arms over each of their shoulders, hands gripping his wrists, dragging him out of the room to follow Evan into the chaos beyond. Lab techs in white coats and other personnel were running back and forth, grey smoke curling and slithering above their heads, many of them holding surgical masks over their faces to keep the acrid fumes out. Vincent watched it all dispassionately, his head quite disassociated from his body.

The men holding him up grunted as they hoisted him through a narrow door that was shut behind them, the air free of smoke and noise. They were in a narrow corridor making it difficult to walk three abreast.

"Put him on your shoulder. We'll take turns carrying him." Evan ordered.

"Why the fuck are we taking him, he's dead weight?" One of the men asked.

"He's a guarantee of our survival." Evan retorted, waving the men forward.

Vincent found himself hoisted over a hard shoulder, his head hanging down giving him a distorted view of their escape. His head bounced against the man's back making him feel more light headed than usual. The man carrying him was strong, but soon he was breathing heavily, Vincent's weight enough to slow him down.

At length they stopped, Vincent deposited on the cold floor while the three men worked on getting a heavy metal door open. Vincent wasn't aware that they'd climbed any distance, but daylight streamed through the doorway once it was opened. He was hoisted up again between the two men and dragged towards a van parked close to the door. He was dumped on the metal floor of the back, the two men jumped in with him and the van started to move, Evan at the wheel.

Tired from all the jostling, he closed his eyes, feigning sleep, his body rolling with each turn, nothing in the back stopping him except the occasional grip of a fist holding on to his clothing, preventing him from hitting the side of the van. Time became meaningless again, but the next time he became aware of anything the van had stopped and the men disappeared. He needed to empty his bladder, so he rolled onto his side and got on to all fours. The van was shut, but he managed to find the handle to open the sliding side door and tugged at it. It slid open and he stared out. The van was parked in what looked like a gravel pit, towering piles of slag edging a dirt roadway. He stared up at them in some bewilderment. It was almost as if he'd forgotten what the outside world looked like, the overcast sky impossibly high after being confined for so long. He leant against the side of the van and relieved himself. Comfortable again he used the van side as a support and walked to the front of the vehicle, peering into the cab and seeing nothing there either. A building office stood four square and squat on the dirt so he made his way over towards it, his steps faltering until he could brace himself on the wall. There was still no sign of anyone about, the gavel pit silent of any machinery, nothing moving except a few birds passing overhead and a plane in the far distance. He inched his way to the door, leaning all the time on the wall. He tried the handle but it was locked.

Too muzzy to make sense of it all he slid down the splintered wood panel and sat down on the dirt, stones digging in to his backside through his jeans.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but the sun had moved when he heard a vehicle approaching, a battered sedan pulling up beside the van in a cloud of dust. Vincent stared at the vehicle, not recognising it, barely curious as to its purpose either. A man got out of the car and approached where Vincent sat, squinting up at the figure, the sun making a halo around the strangers outline.

"Fuck, you're a mess. They really did a number on you." The stranger squatted down on his haunches bringing him to Vincent's eye level. "Do you have any idea of what's happened?"

Vincent struggled to get his brain to work. "I'm outside?"

The man laughed. "Totally fucked up. Come on, let's get you somewhere other than outside."

He reached down and Vincent took the hand offered, the other man hauling him back on to his feet, pulling one of his arms over his shoulders to help him to the parked car.

"We're not taking the van?" Vincent asked as his feet dragged through the dust.

"Nope, not taking the van. Marks didn't tell you anything?"

Vincent shook his head. "Nope. Not a thing. He was here, then he wasn't," he slurred.

They reached the car and the stranger propped Vincent against the passenger side before opening the door, then lowering him into the seat, belting him in. The stranger started up the car and turned it about to go back the way he'd come. Vincent watched the passing scenery but it made no particular impression on him. They passed out of the quarry and into the surrounding countryside, trees filtering the sun.

The stranger kept glancing at Vincent, who was looking out of the window and paying little attention to anything other than the flickering sunshine.

"Haven't seen much of that lately, huh ?"

Vincent slowly shook his head, swinging his head around to look at the driver. "No idea how long." He tapped his head. "They'll find me. Gotta bug in my head."

"Yeah, we know. Taking you to someone who can sort that for you. Here, put this on." The driver handed him a knitted beanie, Vincent taking it and pulling it onto his head. "Good, that will help mask the signal for a short time."

Vincent frowned. "Why did Evan leave me there?"

"He's one of us."

"Who are you?"

"Not one of them."

Vincent looked over at the driver. "What the fuck does that mean?"

The driver laughed. "When you're head is back in the game, you'll be told it all. Just relax. You're free of Muirfield."

Vincent turned away. " Yeah, free of Muirfield maybe, but am I any better off."

The trip took them to the other side of Oklahoma City, to a multi-story building plain in appearance. Once again he was driven down into an underground car park, the driver helping him out of the car and over to a lift. Vincent looked around and laughed drily.

"Out of the frying pan..." he muttered.

"What did you say?" the stranger asked.

"Nothing."

They entered the lift, this one looking normal with the usual array of buttons for a change. Once it was moving, Vincent felt tremors start to shake his body. The stranger noticed.

"You're starting to come down. They'll have something to help with that."

The tremors subsided a little, but he wasn't feeling any better.

The doors slid open and they walked out, Vincent overcome with a sudden fit of shakes, slumping to the vinyl floor only to be caught by the stranger and hoisted back up.

"Not much further. They'll give you something to settle the withdrawal."

"They?" Vincent slurred, now shaking violently. He felt close to throwing up, the room swinging about his head faster and faster. More people appeared and clustered around him, his perspective changing as they lowered him onto a gurney, four of them pushing him rapidly down a hallway, the lights flashing by overhead. Vincent thrashed uncontrollably, his teeth gritted, neck corded with tension as he tossed his head from side to side. Completely out of his head, he started to transform, blue veins swelling and chasing over his skin, his eyes flashing a glittering gold. The people around him started tying his hands and feet, securing him to the frame, his clothes cut off as they fought to get a line into his bulging arm, Vincent fighting them and throwing the medics back. More people surrounded him, their hands holding his limbs, a needle finally piercing his skin and pumping sedatives into his blood. Vincent arched his back and roared, tugging on the bindings, the hands holding him down digging in. Within a few seconds he was unconscious, slumped boneless and limp on the gurney. The people around him breathed a sigh of relief.

"Get him into surgery and let's get that tracker out of his head."

**The Present**

Voices were approaching but he remained laying on the bunk. Two men appeared, one unlocking the door and standing back while the other entered. Neither were known to him.

"How are you feeling?"

Vincent slowly swung his legs off the bunk and sat on the side. "Clearer than I've been in months."

"Our surgeon took out the tracking device and we've made sure there aren't any more hidden in your body anywhere."

"Then Muirfield won't be able to find me. But who has me now?"

"We're not Muirfield, which is all you need to know."

Vincent glanced around the cell. "How long do you plan to keep me in this?"

"Until your blood is clear of the psychotropic drugs and we have your agreement of co-operation."

"No problem with the first, but I'll need to know more before you get the second."

"Then get comfortable. Until both are accomplished you won't be going anywhere."

The man signaled the other and the door was once more unlocked and opened. Vincent watched them go, laying back on the bunk, his head aching a little. They had done him a favour getting rid of the tracker in his head, but who they were and what they would want with him once he was fighting fit again was anyone's guess. Until he did know, he was no closer to being reunited with Catherine than he was when a lab rat for Muirfield.

Closing his eyes he allowed himself to think of Catherine for the first time in a very long time, her face coming in to sharp focus, her smile warming him and bringing one to his own lips. Hope flickered faintly in his heart. He was free of Muirfield. Whoever had him now had to be better than them.

Several things exercised his newly cleared brain. He needed to find out how Evan Marks fitted into the picture. Somehow the former doctor was alive after being shot and supposed dead, and had apparently helped Vincent escape from Muirfield despite being instrumental in chasing and capturing Vincent in the first place. Add to that Evan showing beast-like symptoms as well, it was all building into a puzzle he'd have to solve before even thinking of returning to look for his lover and their child. Feeling weary of all the unanswered and currently unsolvable questions he allowed sleep to claim him, he would fight them all again in the morning.


	17. Chapter 17

A week later and Vincent was finally released from his prison cell. After much soul searching and introspection he realised that if he wanted to be free of them all he would have to sleep with the enemy, so to speak, find out what this group wanted from him and then leave them in his dust. If what they told him was true and he was free of any trackers then there was nothing to stop him disappearing off the radar and beginning his search for Catherine and J.T. But first he had to get out of this cell and to do that he had to do as they asked.

He sent a message with the guard who brought his next meal. An hour later he was released.

He was taken by two apparently unarmed men to a meeting with half a dozen others, one of them the doctor ,Marshall, he'd seen when he'd awoken after the surgery. It was a surreal setting. Obviously they were using an abandoned jail for their base of operations, the room probably formerly used for parole hearings or something similar. Vincent was given a chair while the six men sat behind a long table, some of them wearing ski masks to hide their faces, while others had hoodies pulled over their head, casting their features into shadow. Only Marshall and the one in the centre was entirely unmasked . He was also the man who'd come to his cell that first time with the offer.

Behind Vincent's chair stood his escort, standing with hands behind their backs, at ease military style.

Vincent sat on the hard chair and stared back at the men arrayed before him.

"So what now?" He asked, his hands resting lightly on his knees, feet flat on the floor.

The man in the middle cast a look to right and left at his colleagues before facing forward again.

"We have a proposition for you."

"I'm listening."

"In return for us rescuing you from Muirfield and removing that tracking device we want you to work for us."

"Why should I? What's to stop me walking out right now and not looking back?"

Vincent felt the two men shift slightly behind him, his eyes never wavering from the man addressing him. The men at the table didn't shift their focus from Vincent either.

"Because you want to be free, you don't want to be hunted for the rest of your life, because you want to be reunited with Catherine Chandler, J.T Forbes and your child at some time in the future."

Vincent remained silent. The statement was self evident. The man continued.

"Because you have skills and talents that we could use to bring down Muirfield once and for all."

Vincent shifted his stance, his guard instantly stiffening. He ignored them.

"What makes you think I trust you any more than I trusted Muirfield. You all want something from me, either voluntarily or by force. Muirfield had their crack, now it's your turn?" Vincent gave each man a hard look. "Who's to say you aren't Muirfield playing cloak and dagger to fuck with my head? You wouldn't be the first." He sat back. Let them chew on that.

The man at the center gave a dry chuckle. "Touche. You have no reason to trust us, except we did take that bug out of your head. No one can track your movements now. We're not asking you to give anything more than any other soldier of the United States Special Forces."

Vincent gave a crack of laughter. "Patriotism? Really? I think I've given more than enough and then some. As far as I can tell, Muirfield is all a part of the same deal. I joined up to make a difference, to do my part after nine eleven. I was made into a freak instead, and my buddies slaughtered when it went wrong. Where was the United States Army then?"

Nobody said a word, Vincent glaring at them, his eyes showing a hint of gold with his show of temper.

The leader gave a sigh. "I think we got off on the wrong foot, son. We know who you are, but we haven't introduced ourselves. Collectively we are a group of ex-military who are trying to correct the mistakes make by our government and armed forces, to put is simplistically. My name is Lieutenant James Gordon, retired, formerly of Military Intelligence. Each of the men at this table are ex military, no longer on active service, but still loyal to the Corps, taking part in covert operations to bring down those that use the military to cover up their dirty little secrets."

"Vigilantes, in other words." Vincent tossed in.

"If you like. We are no longer active military but we still have access to certain information. We are kept in the loop and get the jobs no body else is able or wants to do. You could call us the clean up crew." Gordon explained.

Vincent. "Don't they have special forces units, with younger men to do that?"

"Younger maybe, but not better resourced or with the years of experience we have. We have managed to infiltrate Muirfield twice. The first agent was killed, Evan Marks took his place. The raid that freed you was organised by us and successfully shut down the Oklahoma operation with no hope of recovery or rebuild. We also managed to get our hands on valuable intel, as well as you."

"And that neatly brings us back to my original question. Now you've got me, what are you planning to do with me?"

"Not breed from you, if that's what you fear. Eugenics have never been one of our objectives. You and your kind should never have been created in the first place." Gordon spat the statement out with such venom that Vincent reared back.

"Answer me this, Lieutenant, did your group have anything to do with my unit being massacred in Afghanistan?"

One of the other men finally spoke up. "That was not our doing. We had been barely formed back then. Muirfield was only in the early stages of experimentation. It was a result of the fiasco surrounding your unit and others that prompted our creation. No one wanted to believe that they had been experimenting on American soldiers to that extent. We all believed the lie. With the cover-up it was difficult to convince anyone that something so heinous had ever taken place. Vanessa Chandler was instrumental in providing the evidence we needed but when they found out they killed her. Thomas Chandler was a party to the deception and hid her research. We didn't know that anyone had survived the initial cull, but then stories started to surface, in New York and other places, of possible early experiments and maybe survivors of the two thousand and one, two thousand and two attempts to produce a super soldier. When Catherine Chandler became involved and Muirfield reappeared on the scene we knew we were close to finding a live specimen."

Vincent rose to his feet, incensed. "Fuck you. I'm not some fucking experiment !"

Gordon rose to his feet as well, the guards at Vincent's back producing hand held dart guns and training them on Vincent.

"Put your weapons down." Gordon ordered the guards. "Vincent I'm sorry, that was clumsily put. What Jack meant to say was we wanted to find you, not only as proof of what had been done to good men, but also to protect you. Muirfield were cleaning house in New York and we were worried that we could lose our one best chance of proving without a doubt what Muirfield had been doing not only back then, but were continuing to do even now."

Vincent sank back in his chair. "Why did you have to leave it so fucking long to get me out of there? You know that Evan is a beast too?"

"We know. They managed to save him, despite being fatally shot. They used the side effect of fast healing associated with being a chimera to bring him back from the edge. They've perfected the process and his enhancements were operational in a fraction of the time it took them to manifest in you. We think that was part of what they did with you for that year you were taken. You are the pattern card for the next generation of super soldiers. The last three months have been spent trying to produce a viable embryo, then implant it and see if they can bring one to term. They'd like to have got their hands on Catherine, but no amount of truth serum could produce the information of her whereabouts from you, so they chose to go ahead and create their own."

"Have they been successful?" Vincent asked, dreading the answer.

Gordon looked down at his hands then up at Vincent.

"We don't know. Evan wasn't able to establish if the experiments had progressed that far. We know they were harvesting you but not if they were any further along than that. It's the reason we want your help."

Vincent sat back. "I'm not much more than a grunt. I wasn't in the army long enough to be more than a guinea pig in a uniform. I have no special skills or training."

Gordon gave him a hard look. "We have been well informed of your covert operations in the past. You are an excellent shot, you have built in night vision, quick reflexes and response times, you are able to heal fast and leap from tall building in a single bound. You're strong when fully recovered, intelligent and resourceful. You have enhanced hearing and sense of smell, excellent hand to hand combat experience, and display reasoning and staunch loyalty. In all respects you are a super soldier just as they promised."

Vincent crossed his arms over his chest. "One drawback, it only took ten years and the love of a good woman to make all of that a reality. Not something you can bottle or inject as a serum." His sarcastic reply made Gordon smile tightly.

"Quite. Not exactly something that can be replicated in a hurry. Which is all the more reason we need to bring down Muirfield before they create more monsters like Gabe Lowen who was more than happy to sacrifice you for his own ends. From the reports we have managed to source all the men in your unit were not as lucky as you. They became true monsters in every sense of the word. Their humanity was completely subverted by the Chimera serum, leaving them nothing more than vicious animals that had to be terminated, but not before they wiped out an entire village of innocents and insurgents alike. We can't let that happen again."

"It wasn't their fault..." Vincent dropped his head into his hands, memories crowding in of the men he'd known and the families they'd left behind.

Gordon remained silent, letting history speak for itself. He had a fair idea what the young man in front of them would choose to do. He just had to reach the same decision in his own time. The men ranked either side of him took his lead and remained silent as well. Eventually Vincent lifted his head and stared at each man before focusing on Gordon.

"What do you want me to do?"

Gordon smiled in satisfaction. "Firstly you need to regain your strength and health. They did a number on you and we need you in peak condition before we'll put you out in the field, so eat well, sleep well, and work on regaining what Muirfield took from you. Then we'll talk some more."

Vincent rose to his feet and moved towards the table, his hand extended. Gordon also got to his feet and grasped the younger man's hand across the table top. They locked eyes, then Vincent nodded and dropped the man's hand.

"I'll give you six months of my life then I'm gone. I've already had enough stolen, but I can see the logic of your argument. Muirfield and their experiments have to be stopped. If I can help to do that, then I'm in, but not forever. I have something better waiting for me out there and I won't give that up for anything, whatever the rights or wrongs, or any one."

"Fair enough." Gordon replied, secretly surprised that Vincent had agreed to give them even that much. He had read the man right after all. "Go now and we'll talk again in a week."

Vincent turned and left the room, his ever present guards on his heels.

Gordon sat down and blew out his cheeks, letting it go slowly. His fellow conspirators all visibly relaxed.

"I thought he wouldn't go for it." One commented, pushing back his concealing hoody.

"If he's this formidable at half strength, he's going to be a force to be reckoned with, given time." Said another.

"Gentleman, I think we have done enough for now, we need to make plans. Gather the heads of your units and I'll see you in the conference room in an hour."

The men all got up and left the room, leaving Gordon at the table. He sat there a long time, considering all the options and angles, but mostly considering the young man that had sat in front of him minutes before. Vincent Keller was going to be a force to be reckoned with, indeed. If his offspring had even a fraction of his, and Catherine's, fortitude, courage and intelligence they would be remarkable.


	18. Chapter 18

Catherine gazed down into her son's face and marvelled at the creation that was her's and Vincent's child. The baby lay on his back on the covers equally absorbed in its mother's features, little hands reaching and grasping anything placed in them. Catherine watched entranced as delicate fingers wrapped around her grown up one, holding on briefly before releasing to waggle and wave again.

"You are just too beautiful, yes you are." She cooed, smiling broadly, the baby blinking up at her wide-eyed.

"Have you thought of a name for him yet?" J.T's voice from the doorway drew her attention away for a second.

"Hey, J.T. Come and say hello to your nephew."

"Nephew?" J.T replied in some surprise.

"Well, you did help deliver him, so at the very least that makes you an honorary uncle." Catherine smiled over at him, J.T advancing into the room to perch on the side of the bed.

"He's so tiny." J.T reached out cautiously to run the back of one finger over the baby's arm. "And soft. I've never been this close to a baby before. It's amazing to think they start off so tiny then get so big."

Catherine couldn't seem to wipe the smile off her face. "Yes, it is hard to believe. He's so perfect. I wish..." She stopped, feeling emotions swamp and choke her. "Dammit, he should have been here." She finally muttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

J.T put an arm about her shoulders and squeezed. "He would have, if it was at all possible, you know that."

Catherine nodded and returned a watery smile. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

J.T made dismissive noises, never entirely comfortable when Catherine looked at him with her luminous eyes and praised him for something he considered common place. To further disconcert him, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. He blushed. The baby chose that moment to fuss for his next meal, Catherine instantly focused on him not her pink faced companion. When Catherine picked the baby up and prepared to expose her breast to feed, J.T scooted off the bed and stood with his back to her, embarrassed as hell at his own reaction. This was his friend's lover and mother of a newborn, not the woman to have inappropriate reactions to, just because she was going to feed a baby.

"Um...er...I'll...er...carry on then and leave you to...um...that." Without turning around he scuttled out of the room, Catherine not really attending to his words or reaction, too focused on the scrap of life now suckling strongly at her breast.

Outside in the corridor, J.T leant against the wall and tried to calm himself. He was a man, after all, not a eunuch, it was just biology screwing with him. Catherine was an attractive woman and he'd helped her give birth. Nothing remotely romantic or attractive about clearing up afterbirth, and it wasn't as if she gave him the least encouragement, never had. Giving himself a stern talking to, he carried on to the kitchen, muttering all the time about the wayward nature of the male sex drive.

Catherine sniffed and gazed down at her son, tears spilling over despite the smile still curving her lips. What she'd said was true and heartfelt, she wouldn't have been able to manage without J.T at her side. He had coped extraordinarily well in a difficult situation, one that most men would run a mile from, but instead he'd been there and done everything necessary. Without him, she would have buckled under the strain or done something drastic, her emotions see-sawing constantly between joy and despair. She loved J.T for his loyalty to Vincent, and now to her and their child, his steadfast practicality, and even his quirks and fixations. Catherine was not unaware that living so closely with J.T would possibly result in emotions that were not entirely platonic on his part, but she also trusted J.T with her life, and now the life of her and Vincent's child and she was sure that would far outweigh any passing infatuation. It was sweet that he tried to hide it from her, but she wouldn't embarrass him further by letting on she knew. It would become just one of those great unspoken nothings that occur between friends, a small elephant in the room, acknowledged but not mentioned by either of them.

The baby tugged forcefully and Catherine was drawn back to the present. "Ouch, greedy. There's plenty more in the other." She repositioned the child and relaxed back on the pillows. She'd have to leave the room eventually but for now this was her private heaven, safe from the outside world, just her and her beautiful son, a place to make fantasy plans for an unwritten future, to weave dreams out of nothing and dare to wish for the moon. Reality and fact would still be there, but for now she preferred the fantasy that she and Vincent would be reunited and have a real family, in a real home without threats and danger around every corner.

Vincent worked doing chin lifts with the overhead bar, making his muscles pull against of gravity to provide the strength training, his own weight the counter balance. He was sadly out of condition but another couple of weeks and he'd be back on form, healthy eating putting back the pounds lost while in the hands of Muirfield. After his meeting with the renegade ex-military he'd been taken to what he suspected used to be the guard quarters when the abandoned building had been a prison, and given better accommodation than before. He suspected it wasn't the place he'd been taken immediately after he'd been rescued from Muirfield, that had been an ordinary building, probably where they performed the surgery. The old prison block was not in bad shape, possibly only abandoned in recent years, the paint only just starting to flake, metal work suffering from surface rust, all looking a little dilapidated. Given its layout and fortress like structure it was not a bad base of operations for a group of vigilantes with, he suspected, a mandate from powerful men high in the government or armed forces. They would need to be, to go up against Muirfield. He finished his count and dropped to the floor, sweating at the work out. His fringed flopped into his eyes and he tossed his head. He hadn't looked in a mirror in months, and now with his half shaved head from the operation he probably looked as weird as hell. He headed to the shower block attached to the side of the exercise room, nodding to the two guards on either side of the door. Despite his agreement he was still being shadowed, although the guards didn't appear to be armed. It didn't bother him, and figured they were there to protect him, some of the looks he'd been getting from a couple of the other men being not exactly friendly. He'd have to ask Gordon about that. He shucked his clothes and stepped under the shower, letting the warm water sluice over him, sweeping his over long hair back as he let the water drum against his face.

"Hey, wolfman."

Vincent didn't react, just kept his back to whoever was in the doorway of the showers.

"Hey...freak." The voice hissed the word like a snake. Vincent looked over his shoulder at the bruiser leaning against the door frame. There was another standing in the shadows, his face hidden.

"What do you want, I'm busy?" Vincent continued with his shower, his leg braced slightly apart, tense and ready.

"I'm curious. What sort of woman would fuck a freak like you?"

Vincent wondered at his suddenly absent guards. What the hell, he was spoiling for a fight. He turned slowly, continuing with his wash but deliberately showing off his physique before turning his back again. "Say what you've come to say then fuck off, I'm busy."

He heard more men enter the room, the big mouth staying in the doorway. "They say you turn into some sort of animal when anyone pisses you off. That true?"

Vincent switched off the water and reached for the towel to wrap it around his hips. Turning, he faced the men. There were three, none of them known to him, all were big and tough looking. They effectively blocked him in, one on each side and the one in front, still lounging against the door frame. Vincent watched them, not saying a word.

The big mouth straightened up. "You look like shit."

Vincent smiled "You'd know. Looked in the mirror lately?" The two other men snorted, suppressing their grins, but not enough. The big mouth snarled.

"Better let your pussy out to play, 'cos I'm going to pull your fucking head off!" He lunged and Vincent dodged, the other man slipping on the wet floor and crashing into the shower wall. The other two made a grab and Vincent transformed, his eyes glowing a fierce gold, one of the men letting out a yelp and jumping back, the other attacking from the right and not seeing Vincent's eyes. Instead he got a vicious back hand, claws just missing his left eye but leaving deep scratches and making him howl, blood spurting. Vincent leap over him and spun to face his primary aggressor, the big mouth who was crouched, fists bunched, ready to swing. He saw Vincent's face and checked, then carried on, yelling, his fist flying. Vincent met him head on, claws ripping and tearing, teeth biting as the other man flailed, howling when Vincent cuffed him and sent him to the floor. The third man didn't enter the fray, keeping his distance and just watching. Vincent swung his head round to face him, baring his teeth and snarling. The man backed off even further, his hands out to ward Vincent off.

"Hey, man, cool it. We just needed to know..." He stared at his companions, both bleeding and battered, on the floor. "Guess we know now."

Vincent reverted back to normal, re-wrapping the towel about his hips. "Are we done here?" He let his eyes flash gold for a second, the other man nodding hastily. Vincent walked past the two men still on the ground and out of the shower, snagging his clothes on the way and not looking back.

He had barely finished dressing when the summons came. His two guard were back at their post, both giving him a bit more space as they escorted him to the parole board room. This time there was only Gordon sitting at the table. Vincent once more sat on the chair facing him.

"I hear you put on a small demonstration for the men."

Vincent shrugged. "They asked for it."

Gordon smiled. "And buck naked too."

"I was taking a shower."

"We think you're ready for your first assignment." said Gordon. He raised his hand to signal, and several men entered the room and stood in front of the table, saluting Gordon then turning to face Vincent, legs apart, hands behind their backs. It was the same three that had taunted him in the shower block. Two wore evidence of their encounter with Vincent, the third just grinned and stared straight ahead. Gordon indicated the three men.

"These is your unit. Jensen, Wilson and Reid." Jensen had butterfly tape around his eye where Vincent's claws had raked him, Reid had patches of white dressings on his ear, cheek, neck and a black eye. Wilson was the only one unmarked.

"My unit? These are the men who jumped me in the shower."

Gordon smiled. "Then I don't need to introduce you. Reid has all the details about your objective, so I suggest you use the next hour to formulate your plan of action. Good luck, gentlemen." Gordon rose and left the room, patting Vincent on the shoulder in an avuncular fashion as he passed. The men standing at ease instantly relaxed.

"You're a dirty fighter," said Reid, pressing a hand to his chest where further dressing under his tee shirt hid the furrows left by Vincent's claws. "I couldn't lay a blow on you. You're fast." His voice was nothing like the one he'd used in the shower block. It held a hint of admiration.

"Colour me impressed." Wilson, a burly African American with laughing eyes, added. "When I saw your eyes change it totally freaked me out." He grinned toothily at Vincent, who felt his own lips curve into an answering smile.

Jensen smiled ruefully. "Nearly took my fucking eye out, man. No one told us you had claws."

Vincent stood slowly, still wary of this apparent turn around.

"So now the introductions are over, what's this objective?"

"So how do we know this intel is solid?" Vincent asked, looking at the photos and floor plans. "I've seen this before, and they won't let us just walk in and destroy it."

"Marks is our inside man, one of many. He was instrumental in getting you out of there as well as destroying the Oklahoma cell completely. His intel is trustworthy."

Vincent looked up. "So that's the plan? Destroy each cell, in each city one by one?"

"Worked pretty fucking well so far." Reid replied. "We've hit three in the east and two in the west, now Oklahoma is crossed off the list as well. You took out one in New York, and that hurt them. There was chatter for weeks about the lost data and records."

"Sounds impressive when you don't know how many are out there. If there are a hundred more to go, I'd be less so."

"Fair comment. From what we've been able to gather from our moles in different branches of the organisation, there are four main centres and one nexus. We don't know how many satellites there are, or now many agents, but now that half of their main centres are destroyed I'm betting they'll be pulling back to regroup at the nexus and come out fighting from there."

"Who is behind Muirfield? Is it private, military or government?" Vincent asked.

Jensen answered. "A bit of each. We reckon they play one off against the other. The military originally funded the project, but private investors are providing ongoing resources, all with the knowledge and support of some government agencies with military affiliations."

"And they've all bought into this super soldier project?" Vincent asked.

Jensen nodded. "With the on going war against terrorism and lives lost to insurgents and bombs, they are pushing to find an alternative to throwing ordinary grunts into front line positions. They talk about pulling out, but with all the uprisings in the middle east, Korea, Afghanistan, with no sign of peace or a solution, troops continue to be lost and politics play with men's lives."

"How are super soldiers going to change that?"

"Combine a highly trained special ops soldier with the skills you have and you create a unit that is almost unstoppable. With up to the minute intel you could take out terror cells, insurgents camps, rebel strongholds with minimal losses and maximum effect."

"You're just giving me the same argument that Muirfield did when I first joined their experimental programme. What is their real agenda?"

Jensen and the other two exchanged a quick look between them. Wilson finally spoke.

"We think they are planning on building a super soldier army big enough to force a change in government here in the USA. All of the private backers and branches of the military involved are staunch Republicans. The whole project was conceived in those early months of the Bush administration, at the height of the Iraq war. Then came nine eleven and everything escalated after that, as you know. The project derailed for a while after the debacle with your unit, plus many of the main project leaders abandoned Muirfield, like Vanessa Chandler. But within a short space of time they were starting over with the testing and programmes, as well a recruiting back many of the specialist that were previously on board."

"What happened to those that wouldn't return?" Vincent asked, feeling sick to his stomach.

"You know what happened."

Vincent nodded. Memories of that awful night of Vanessa Chandler's death flashing across his minds eye.

"They learnt from the mistakes made, but could never get a test subject to replicate what you were becoming. A true Chimera."

Jensen took up the narrative. "They had you for a year and seem to have found the breakthrough that eluded them all those years. Evan is proof of that. He was not only brought back from the dead, he was used as a test subject and appears to be one hundred percent stable, with similar traits that you display. He's not as fast, or as strong, but he has the eyesight and hearing, heightened sense of smell and a spooky sixth sense."

Vincent looked up. "Sixth sense?"

"He can anticipate, as if he knows what you're about to do before you do." said Reid.

"Spooky," Vincent murmured, thinking of the strange connection he had with Catherine, his ability to sense her whereabouts, something she seemed to do as well when he was near enough.

"So where to now?" he asked.

"Washington, D.C."

"What's there?"

"The Nexus."


	19. Chapter 19

Catherine stretched. Today was the day she would venture outside with her new son. She hadn't minded staying inside, not at all. Her daily routine was entirely focused around the baby, sleeping when he slept, eating when he was awake and playful, just spending time with him and enjoying every moment of those baby days. Already he was changing, filling out, growing, satisfied for now with his diet of breast milk and mum's attention. She loved bathing him, making him laugh, blowing raspberries on his rounded tummy, kissing his feet. In all she was as most new mothers, completely besotted with her child. J.T was a part of the fun and games taking his turn to change the infant, bath it, bring up wind, all the normal things that would have been Vincent's to do, but his friend did instead in his absence. It was poignant and often reduced her to tears but she kept that to herself, not wanting to load J.T up with dealing with an emotional wreck as well as everything else. She hardly ever watched the news, but she happened to catch an update about a bombing in Oklahoma, the details sketchy at best, but they hadn't been able to pin it on any organisation, domestic or overseas as yet. There was little to go on, few details given out, not even a casualty list which was unusual in itself. In the news item it was being posited that maybe an underground gas line had blown, or a car exploded in the car park below the building, either way no one had come forward to claim it, and there appeared to be little evidence even of who the building belonged to. Given it had happened a few weeks ago it was surprising that the media hadn't ferreted out much information. The baby started to wail so she abandoned the television to see to him, the news item forgotten.

It had been decided that they wouldn't invest in a whole lot of baby gear, other than clothes and nappies, still working under the assumption that if they had to move quickly, they couldn't take all the usual paraphernalia anyway so why bother in the first place. J.T had purchased both a sling and a baby pouch so that Catherine could carry the child in front of her and have her hands free if and when she ventured outside. Catherine was more than happy with this arrangement as it meant she never left him vulnerable in a pram or pushchair for someone to snatch and make off with. Despite any evidence that anyone knew or cared where they were, they kept up their vigil and rarely relaxed their guard. As far as the neighbours knew, Catherine had probably gone away on holiday or something. They saw J.T come and go, bringing in groceries, leaving for work, but they never heard a baby or saw any evidence of one. So it was a surprise to some when Catherine appeared with a baby in a sling, her body still not entirely returned to its sylph-like proportions. Of course they'd noticed she was pregnant, but there'd been no ambulance in the night or day, no mad dash or influx of people visiting, and yet there she was with a baby.

The object of all this speculation was blithely unaware, walking serenely along the sidewalk, one arm cradling her child through the material of the sling, glancing down regularly to look at her babe and careful to keep the sun from shining into his eyes. As she perambulated about the block, only one person approached, an old lady with a little dog who had last seen her propped up against a fence the day before she gave birth.

"Hello," she sang out, the little dog sniffing Catherine's feet.

"Hello. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

The lady looked up at the overcast sky, but chose to ignore the comment. "So, it wasn't a stitch then. Can I see your baby?"

Catherine pulled the fabric back to show off her newborn. The lady cooed and smiled.

"Isn't he a handsome fella...it is a boy?"

"Oh, yes. He is beautiful, isn't he?"

The lady smiled kindly, well aware that to their mothers all babies were beautiful. "He's a delight. Have you a name for him yet?"

"We're still working on that," Catherine replied, ruefully. "But there's no rush."

"Of course not. Well, take care of yourself and your little one. Goodbye." The lady pulled the little dog away from its interest in a candy wrapper and walked on.

Catherine gazed down at her child and grinned. "See, someone else who thinks you're gorgeous."

She carried on around the block, for once not feeling that she was being watched, and enjoyed the rest of her brief foray. Back home and it was time to feed him, so she settled on the back porch and watched the birds pecking at the grass while junior drank greedily. While she sat and watched she ran several ideas for names through her head, an exercise she did every time she breastfed. She would bring Vincent's face to mind and think of different names that would suit him, but until now she hadn't found one she really liked. Of course she had her favourites, but without Vincent to add his input she was loathe to settle on one. It seemed disloyal. That said, she really had to make a decision soon. Consigning the problem to the back of her mind, she concentrated on the here and now and just enjoyed the peace and quiet. Who knew for how long it would last.

Vincent settled in for a wait, keeping his head below the parapet to avoid being spotted. His scar on his head itched and he scratched it, his nails scraping over the short hair growing back. It matched the rest of his head, the long hair gone along with the whiskers, the military look making him appear younger but also tougher. He was clothed completely in black, sporting a Kevlar vest and carrying a backpack full of ammunition and see-four. His unit was in position to act when the signal was given. The building was located on the outskirts of Washington D.C, the white house still visible as a brightly lit blob in the far distance. He was to be his units eyes and ears, the diversion to start shortly masking their entrance, with Vincent taking the lead until they reached their objective. The core of the Muirfield nexus.

His team was on the roof, preparing to enter the building. The thrum of massive ventilation fans competed with the constant traffic noises from below. The roof top held up a number of metal structures, some topped with satellite dishes, extended aerials and other communication devices that you'd expect to see placed on the top of a television or radio station. Muirfield had a very big ear on the world. Among the framework supporting the ears, were security cameras, Vincent and his team keeping to the few blind-spots available. A large block off to the side was the lift housing and stairwell access, the door covered by another security camera. This would be their entry to the nexus, but first they had to clear out any security waiting below. They also had to shut down any chance of Muirfield calling for help. To that end they had planted small devices at all the wiring junctions, ready to blow them when the diversion started below. Their action would inevitably draw attention from inside, and open the secure door to the stairwell in the process.

Vincent saw Jensen check his watch, it was close to time.

A loud screeching of tires and enormous bang sounded from below and Vincent could visualise the head-on taking place right outside the building. It sounded convincing to him, so it was now time for his team to move. Like shadows they left their hiding places and advanced on the stairwell block, keeping as much to the shadows as possible and positioning themselves as planned. Reid detonated the first charge, a small one designed to destroy the cabling on only one of the dishes. It would provoke a reaction from inside, without attracting attention from outside. Sure enough, the security door opened and several armed men spilled out on to the roof. Wilson held up five fingers to indicate the number before melting back into the shadows, his task to immobilize the men then blow the rest of the charges while the others entered the building and proceeded to phase two.

Vincent took the lead, his senses on full alert to any sound that would give them an advance warning of trouble ahead. They had already negotiated ten floors and would soon be ready to leave the stairwell and advance into the complex itself. There had been no sign of pursuit from above so it was supposed Wilson had achieved his goal of immobilising the security team and blowing the rest of the charges to render Muirfield blind and deaf.

The stairs were in semi-gloom with only emergency lighting which was no trouble for Vincent or his companions, prepared as they were with night vision goggles and Vincent with his unique sight. He suddenly halted half way down the stairs and signaled to the others. They backed up until they were out of sight of the door for level four, only seconds before it opened and a group of men, some in lab coats, emerged and started walking down to the next level. They didn't appear unduly alarmed, but were being marshalled by two men with semi-automatics. Vincent waited until they had clattered down another flight before he signaled the all clear. Reid dodged ahead of Vincent and used the security card given to them on the door. It worked and they opened it, Reid ducking his head to check the corridor was clear before the others followed him through. Once more they deferred to Vincent who paused for a second before waving them on. They were close to their goal, with no resistance so far. Sirens still sounded throughout the building but this floor seemed clear, Vincent jogging past several doors without pause. They were approaching their goal when the first shot rang out. They all ducked, Reid in the rear returning fire with the security suits firing on them. Jensen tossed a smoke grenade down the corridor to mask their escape and all three ran full pelt towards the doorway that would lead them to their objective. More shots rang out from up ahead, the security on full alert to the intruders now.

Vincent tried the door but found it locked. No surprise so he quickly shaped a charge while Reid and Jensen exchanged gun fire with their attackers. The charge made short work of the door and Vincent dived through, followed by the others. Tendrils of smoke followed them into the room, which they quickly barricaded with furniture and a fire axe. It wouldn't hold for long, but they didn't need long. They passed through several innocuous looking office and conference room, barricading or locking each door behind them to slow down the pursuit. At length they reached what looked like a dead end. They had each memorised the plans and quickly found the concealing paneling, and hidden security lock that activated the sealed door. Once more they employed the all-access card and it worked, the door clicking open to admit all three, closing behind them and concealing itself once more, invisible to anyone who didn't know it existed.

Behind the secret door was another world. This was where it got tricky. Their intel had got them in and to within a stones throw of their objective, but the last stretch was unknown territory. The sound of alarms was almost completely muted, the stark white walls reminding Vincent of his brief time held by Muirfield in New York. His team advanced, guns at the ready, checking each door for access, peering through any windows for more information. Vincent could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, his nose telling him that other hybrids had used the area at some stage, but none of the spore was fresh or recent. One door gave when he tested it, the room beyond unlit except for blinking lights from a computer console. He flipped the switch for the lights and froze. The room was filled, similar to the one in New York, with what looked like half finished science projects of the most grotesque kind. Medical equipment was attached to bits of a human body, arms and legs hooked up to electrical impulses that had them twitching in response to stimuli. Tall glass jars containing hearts pulsed as if with life, computer screens came to life when touched to reveal results and images of dissected body parts, even brains. It was like a modern-day Frankenstein's laboratory brought to awful life. The sounds of retching behind him announced Reid noisily expelling his last meal on to the pristine floor, the acrid smell of vomit mixing with the aroma of bleach, embalming liquid and burnt flesh. Vincent swallowed down his own bile and advanced into the room, their objective forgotten for the moment by the array of horrors before them. A gurney at the back held a grey body bag, beside what looked like an meat locker door. Vincent unzipped the bag, his nose wrinkling at the smell from within. The man was frozen in death, his face still transformed into that of a beast, blue veins still visible under the bloated skin as if time had stopped for him in mid-transformation. Vincent forced himself to lift the corpses eyelids. The eyes were yellowy green and very bloodshot. He checked the hands and saw the extended claws, the hands warped and twisted as if with advanced arthritis. Below the waist the body was covered in long, animal like hair, the legs malformed but heavily muscled. Whoever the man had been, he was now just another experiment gone wrong, a thing to be studied and dissected for answers, his humanity destroyed for Muirfield's greater purpose.

"Vincent!" Jensen spoke sharply to him, dragging him back from his introspection.

"Yeah."

"This horror show is not why we're here. We have to go."

Vincent let the flap of the body bag fall back and cover the corpse. "Isn't it? Isn't this room exactly why we're here?"

Jensen stepped up close to draw Vincent's attention to him. "It is, but we can't stop this if we don't destroy the knowledge behind it. We have to make sure they can't do this to anyone else."

Vincent dragged his gaze away from the body bag to meet Jensen's. "Agreed."

They weaved between the computer terminals and dissection benches to reach the door. Vincent cast one last behind him before resolutely facing forward and continuing down the corridor.

At last they reached the door to their ultimate goal. It wasn't labelled as such, in fact had no label at all. They used the card for the last time and the door opened. Reid hit the bank of switches for the lights and they stood in the doorway as the overheads came on illuminating rank, after rank after rank of computer servers. It was New York all over again but on steroids. They advanced further into the room, but without warning the door slammed shut behind them and a sheet of metal dropped into place, sealing them in. Warning lights started to flash and the lights suddenly went out, plunging them into a semi gloom. Vincent scanned the room while his team-mates dropped their night vision goggles into place. No one spoke, they knew what to do. Vincent jogged down the centre aisle while Reid took the left, and Jensen the right. As they went they stuck blocks of see-four on computer towers, each with a timer that started flashing as soon as it was set. Vincent could hear a hissing noise and glanced over his shoulder. Where they'd been standing second before was now clouded with gas.

"Gas masks!" he shouted to his team mates, both of whom quickly applied a mask to their face, as did Vincent. They were running now to reach the back of the room, the blocks of explosives starting to run out along with their accompanying timers, and still the room continued to stretch before them. A some stage Muirfield had extended their data base into the next building, the storage facility taking over the entire floor of two complete properties. They had come woefully under prepared. The gas was catching up with them and making everything look hazy.

"I'm out!" Reid trotted over and showed his empty bag, Jensen doing the same seconds later. Vincent placed his last charge just as the first went off the length of half a football pitch behind them. Gouts of flame illuminated the fogged room and rocked the floor, almost knocking them off their feet. They ran on, explosions rocking the room behind them, building in a succession until a wall of flame raced after them, the vast space quickly filling with black, roiling smoke and flying debris. Vincent spotted the door and raced ahead, leading the others to an escape route. Fully transformed he shoulder the door, sending it flying, the flames following them through, debris raining down as the floor rippled beneath them. The building was shaken repeatedly by shock-waves as explosions continued to rip the computer towers apart. Scorched and covered in debris, they picked themselves up and headed further into the neighbouring building, nothing to guide them except Vincent's enhances senses and their training. The building continued to shudder as if in the grip of a violent earthquake, the floor heaving beneath them while the walls swayed like they were caught in a hurricane. Struggling to keep their feet they pounded down a corridor, throwing doors open and looking for a stairwell to the roof. Around them people that hadn't been alerted to the alarm in the first building were now trying to escape the heaving building around them. Smoke scented the air and set off sprinklers making the footing slippery and making it easier for Vincent's team to blend with the scurrying staff, eventually dodging to the side into the stairwell, pounding up the stairs heading for the roof. They discarded their gas masks and empty back packs, only holding on to their weapons and ammo, their escape not yet assured. Camera's in the stairwell would be alerting the security team to their whereabouts so they had to move fast. An enormous explosion knocked them off their feet, the stairs appearing to twist around them, the metal railing vibrating under their hands. Dust spiraled upwards, followed closely by smoke, the men grimly continuing their climb upwards, cracks appearing in the walls, the sound of explosions still booming below.

They reached the top and forced open the door, breathing in lungfuls of fresh air as they spilled onto the roof top. Bullets instantly dug up the ground around them, a helicopter swinging around to take aim again, its bright spotlight wavering over the area of the doorway. The three men broke apart and took different directions across the roof, the light darting about trying to find one to remain focused on a target. Smoke billowed out of the open doorway leading to the stairs making a convenient smoke screen for the men hiding among the air-conditioning ducts. Smoke was starting to come out of those too, the helicopter making the smoke swirl and eddy while the rotor blades made it twist into spirals. Jensen and Reid joined Vincent at his position, the three men hardly able to make themselves heard over the clatter of the aircraft circling above them. Bursts of gunfire kept their heads down, their hiding place barely enough cover to protect them if the beam of light sweeping over the roof found them.

"We need to get off this roof." Jensen shouted. "The whole building could go any time."

Vincent nodded. He peered around the metal duct just as the helicopter swung around, the light blinding him for a second. Instantly he raised his arm and fired at the light, the others doing the same until the light shattered and went out the helicopter turning hard to avoid a further hail of bullets from the men below. At once they were up and running for the edge of the roof, Reid peering over for anything that would aid their escape. Smoke was billowing from nearly all the windows down the face of the two building and he could see fire engines starting to wend their way past traffic on their way to the blaze.

"Nothing down this way," he reported to the other two. "Too public. Fire department are on the way." He peered over the edge again, the fire trucks from both directions apparently held up by a convenient traffic snarl at the intersections leading to the buildings. "Operation hold up is keeping them back. Don't want them putting this lot out too quickly."

"They'll be putting us out if we don't find a way off this roof top." Jensen shouted over the clatter of the returning helicopter. "That's if they don't shoot us full of holes first!"

"They can't see us," said Reid, grinning.

"They won't have to," retorted Vincent, pointing to the gouts of flame starting to snake out of the duct work, another explosion rocking the building they were standing on. The lurid light, diffused by the smoke cast long shadows, even the doorway illuminated by backlit smoke, the stairway now a choking chimney with no escape for them. "We'll try the other side, come on!"

They ran across the roof, dodging the flames and acrid smoke to reach the far side, the air a little clearer away from the smoke stacks. Vincent leant over the edge. The distance to the next building over wasn't great and he'd probably make it if he transformed, but the two men with him wouldn't have a chance. There were fewer windows on this side of the building facing on to the alleyway, but those that did were broken, shooting long tongues of flame and black smoke into the night. Flashing blue and red lights could be seen at each end of the alleyway with people passing in front of them, sirens announced the arrival at last of the fire brigade, hopefully too delayed to stop the raging inferno burning below their feet. It was with grim satisfaction that Vincent silently congratulated himself and his team for a job well done. Whatever the two building had held, it was now consumed and destroyed - utterly. If the nexus was their major centre of information, it was a burning slag heap now. If this didn't put a serious crimp in their plans for a super soldier army, nothing would. He lifted his head, someone was shouting, calling their names. He looked at Reid and Jensen but they were still looking for a way down and hadn't heard whoever was calling them. He concentrated and realised that whoever was calling wasn't shouting, but talking normally, giving him instructions from somewhere nearby. It was Wilson. Vincent tapped the two men on the shoulder to get their attention.

"Stay here. Wilson has a plan. He's on the next building, but he needs me to help him. I'm going to jump over." He waited for the two men to nod, then started to strip off his gear down to his tee-shirt, pants and boots. Free of any added weight he jogged back as far as he could go. With his night vision giving him a clear view of the roof top next door, he transformed, bouncing to get his heart rate up. The clatter of the helicopter didn't distract him as he started his run, the staccato of gunfire not impinging on his concentration as he launched himself off the side of the building, something peppering his shoulders as he leapt, the air rushing past his face, muscles straining. The opposite roof rushed up to meet him, his body tucking into a roll position as he landed, the impact forcing the air out of him. He was up at once, grit digging into his hands as he ran back to the edge of the building. Over he roar of the inferno he heard the two men firing up at the helicopter as it circled like a vulture. Wilson appeared out of the smoky gloom and Vincent waited for him to join him. The big man was limping and held one arm across his chest protectively.

"Took a bit to bring them all down, but I'm okay," Wilson reported. "Here. Use this." He handed over a coil of rope with a grappling hook on the end. Vincent stood up and braced himself, letting out a little of the rope and starting to swing the heavy metal end. The hooked end sailed across the gap and landed next to Reid and Jensen, who quickly secured it to the roof. Jensen gave covering fire while Reid crab crawled along the rope towards where Wilson and Vincent waited. Then it was Reid's turn, the roof almost completely engulfed in flames and smoke, the helicopter giving up its pursuit at last in face of the lack of visibility. Reid started to cross but a flaming brand landed on the rope, burning through before the man could reach the other side. Vincent and Jensen took the stain when the rope broke, Reid hanging on for dear life at he swung towards the unforgiving brickwork and hit hard. Stunned he could only hold on while his team mates hauled him up to safety. All of them were coughing but made their getaway through the adjoining building, exiting out of a side door into the next alley over.

All eyes were on the two buildings ablaze, not noticing the four men, one limping and another supported by his companion walking away in the opposite direction to all the excitement.


	20. Chapter 20

Catherine sat in the armchair, her son at her breast, J.T banging about in the kitchen behind her making supper. The television was showing a news item about a series of unexplained and unsolved building fires, none of them apparently related to each other, but all displaying similar traits. They had occurred in numerous cities including the one she'd seen weeks ago about Oklahoma. Now they included Washington D.C, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Boston and finally Kansas. Each attack or incident had resulted in one, sometimes two buildings being completely destroyed by fire and explosives. There were no leads to why or suspects in custody. The companies themselves were apparently covers for a larger corporation but no-one seemed to know who or what they did, or why they were being targeted by unknown forces for such destruction. The news reported was even going back over historical incidents of a similar nature relating the current events to one reported in New York. Catherine suddenly sat up. The building being shown on the news item was The Orchard that she and Vincent had destroyed.

"J.T!" Her son started to wail at his mother's shouting, Catherine spending a few moments to settle him while J.T wandered over, tee-towel over his shoulder.

"What is it?"

Catherine pointed to the new item. "They are comparing the mystery attacks on buildings to the one in New York, the one Vincent and I were part of."

J.T squinted at the screen and listened for a few moments. Finally he shrugged. "There's nothing really to tie them together."

Catherine looked up at him. "Isn't it odd that such an obvious plan of attack isn't being claimed by anyone? None of the terrorist groups are saying they are responsible, nor any of the domestic groups either. There's too many for it to be a single person, yes they can't pin it on anyone and there's been no arrests or even a lead. The companies appear to be covers for a larger organisation. Don't you see where this is going?"

J.T looked at her, a puzzled frown on his face. "I'm sorry, I must be having a blond moment. What are you getting at?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "What if this is someone taking down Muirfield? They were using that place in New York, The Orchard as a front for storing their computer servers, what if these are the same?"

"Have they mentioned computer servers being destroyed in any of these places?" J.T asked.

"No, but neither has anyone said what these companies did, or what the buildings were used for."

J.T gave her a look. "I think it's a bit of a stretch to leap from unexplained arson to someone taking Muirfield down, don't you?"

Catherine frowned. "I suppose. It could be coincidence, random acts of industrial sabotage, or disgruntled employees torching their former work places, but they have all happened in the last six months, ever since I gave birth, ever since we came here."

J.T rolled his eyes this time. "Now you are stretching. It's just a coincidence, that's all. Freakish maybe, but hardly a conspiracy and there's nothing to relate it back to Muirfield. Have they reported bodies without finger prints, or strange beast like cadavers?" As soon as he'd spoken he wished the words back. Catherine looked stricken, her eyes welling up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. Shit, Catherine I'm sorry, please don't cry, I wasn't meaning that they'd find Vincent's body. Oh crap." He snapped his mouth shut. Catherine looked down at her son and concentrated on him, not on J.T's unfortunate choice of words.

"He's alive. He has to be."

J.T jumped in. "Of course he is. Maybe all this is just a nutter with a grudge against bad seventies architecture. There's nothing to suggest this is anything to do with Muirfield."

"Bad seventies architecture?" Catherine arched an eyebrow, her eyes still wet but a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Believe me, the world is a better place without those ugly buildings." It was weak joke, but it brought a smile to Catherine's face, banishing the tragic expression of moments ago. The baby decided to draw attention back to him, letting out a loud cry. Catherine hoisted him on to her shoulder and got up off the sofa, pulling her blouse together.

"What are you cooking up in there, J.T?"

J.T accepted her diversion and grabbed it with both hands. "You like Italian, don't you?" He reached down for the remote and switched the television, and its disturbing news, off.

Muirfield appeared to be on the run. They had lost almost all of their research laboratories, computer hubs, communication centres and personnel were scattered through a number of cities. The renegade group destroying their buildings and wiping out their resources were relentless. Their intel was reliable and each time Muirfield tried to narrow down the list of suspects another city suffered a loss. They seemed to have run out of places to hide. So much had been lost but they still had the results of their research safely hidden away along with the more senior of their scientists. Their backers were running scared and pulling out like rats from a sinking ship, melting back into the shadows and destroying any connection they might have with the organisation and the projects they funded.

In a last ditch effort against a faceless enemy, it was rumoured they withdrew all their men and resources, along with data and specimens to a stronghold in Nevada, part of the Area fifty one complex at Groom lake. There it was supposed they would be safe and unreachable. Whichever rebel organisation was trying to wipe the Chimera project out would be forced to give up. Groom Lake was heavily protected on the land and in the air. No one could touch them there.

Vincent was in the gym working out, his black widow maker plastered to his body with sweat as he lifted weights repeatedly, not pausing or slowing down despite the monumental weights he was using. His team were also there, all of them aware of the man in the corner pushing himself to well beyond usual human limits. News had filtered through their network of informants that Muirfield were holed up in Nevada. Agent Evan Marks was even now talking to the leaders about possible strategies to destroy the last remnants of Muirfield. It had become a crusade to Marks, a major player in the organisations downfall. It was his network of informants that had aided in the plans to destroy and scatter Muirfield, to bring the backers to their knees and make sure the resources were never made available again. It had eventually got too hot for Agent Marks to remain and he was currently listed as dead or among the unidentifiable body parts left behind at one of the buildings destroyed. In fact he was very much alive and well and behind closed doors with the leaders of the renegades.

Vincent had only seen him at a distance, his hackles rising every time Evan came close. Despite knowing that the man had been instrumental in the continuing destruction of Muirfield he couldn't stop himself seeing Evan kissing Catherine in the photo booth out of his mind. It was illogical and indefensible jealousy but he couldn't stop himself. Before Vincent had the upper hand both physically and emotionally, but now Evan was like him and suddenly nothing was quite so black and white as before. Agent Marks had proved himself on the side of good, a hero of their revolution. Because of him Muirfield were on the ropes and sinking fast.

"Hey, Vin, you going to stop showing the rest of us up?"

Vincent paused and laid the bar on the holders and sat up, Wilson and the other were on various other bits of equipment but all of them looking at Vincent.

"Can't you keep up, Wilson?"

"No one can keep up with you, Vin." Wilson flexed his own impressive muscles and flashed a broad grin. "I'd pop a vein if I tried to lift what you've got on the bar."

At that moment the door to the gym opened and Evan walked in wearing a tee-shirt and loose pants, towel draped around his neck. Reid and Jensen nodded to him, while Wilson turned to Vincent.

"Here's someone who could match you."

Evan walked further into the room. "Should my ears be burning?" He asked, his English accent very evident. Wilson sauntered towards him.

"Just saying that Vincent outclasses us poor grunts, but you might give him a run for his money. Care to make a match of it?"

Evan glanced at Vincent, noting his soaked shirt. "Hardly seems fair. I'm fresh, while Vincent has obviously been hard at it. I'd be taking advantage." He smiled toothily and tossed his towel over one of the bits of equipment. Vincent picked up his water bottle and downed the contents, wiping his face with his towel.

"I'm game if you are. Endurance or strength."

"I'll go easy, how about strength. Rules?" Evan pulled off his tee-shirt, showing a beefed up physique, a far cry from his days as a NYPD pathologist. Vincent shook his head.

"No rules. Simple lift. Can't put it back on the rests, you lose."

"No problem. What's the minimum?" Evan asked. Vincent looked over at Reid who had his lap top open.

"What's the max an ordinary man can do? We could start there."

"Hundred and eighty five pounds max." Reid reported.

"Let's start at two hundred pounds," Evan suggested. Vincent nodded.

"Just to warm up."

The two men started their competition, both of them in full beast mode, eyes glowing yellow and gold, arms threaded with deep blue veins, both evenly matched as each round added a new weight to the bar. When they reached one thousand one hundred pounds they were beyond the ability of any human, ordinary or otherwise. Vincent was feeling the strain, having already had a vigorous workout, but his honed endurance saw him reach over one thousand three hundred pounds, his beastly side sending a surge of power into his arms and shoulders so he almost threw the bar back onto the rests setting them rattling. Now it was Evan's turn, his previous cavalier attitude changed to one of intense focus, his enhanced muscles bulging with the effort of matching Vincent's set target. They had drawn a small crowd of officers and men, including Marshall and Gordon and a few Chimera's to round out the audience. Vincent stood to one side as Evan took up his position on the bench, his hands finding a grip on the bar, two men either side in case the weights dropped and threatened to crush him. The bar was bent in a curve from the extreme weights fixed to both ends. Evan braced himself and took the weight on both hands and arms, his veins standing out as he took the strain. It was too much, the bar dropping down too fast. The four men tried to slow it, but it was too much for them. Vincent moved with the speed of light to stand behind the head of the bench, his hands wrapping around the bar and lifting it before it could crush the man beneath. Evan slid out of the way and they dropped the bar which crashed on to the bench and broke it in two, the weights, frame and men all scattering to the sound of whoops and cheers as Vincent was acknowledged the winner. Evan sat on the floor, his head between his knees, only looking up when Vincent reached down with a hand to help him.

"You did pretty well for a Chimera," said Vincent, pulling Evan to his feet so they stood toe to toe.

"You won fair and square. How the fuck did you manage to lift that?" Evan asked, clearly impressed.

Vincent shrugged. "Practise. I had ten years and plenty of time to fill."

"What you did wasn't humanly possible."

"Just as well I'm not human then, isn't it?!" Snagging his towel, Vincent walked to the shower block, ready now to admit it had taken everything he had to make that final lift. The hot jets sluiced over his back and shoulders like a vigorous masseuse, easing some of the tension and allowing him to come down from his beastly high.

Gordon entered the bathroom, staring at the broad shoulders peppered with new scars from recently healed bullet wounds. Vincent shut off the water and looked over his shoulder at him.

"That was some display you put on there, son." Gordon remarked.

Vincent wrapped a towel around his hips and used another to wipe his face and head. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You and Marks have a history. He hasn't said anything, but it's pretty obvious there's something between you. Every time he goes near you, you bristle up like a porcupine, and he goes on the defensive. Care to share?"

Vincent emerged from the towel to find Gordon fixing him with the look. The one that brooked no prevarication.

"We were in love with the same woman."

Gordon frowned. "Who did she go with?"

"Me."

"Then what's the beef?"

"He died. She mourned. He's back from the dead and I don't know how she's going to deal with that."

"This all part of the life you want to get back to?" Gordon asked.

"Yeah. More than you can ever know."

"Then why are you still here? You said you'd give us six months. That was up a month ago."

Vincent met Gordon's steady stare. "Because Muirfield's not dead yet."

"Maybe not, but they are fatally wounded and holed up. There's no where else for them to go. We have them where we want them, only they don't know it yet. Go home, son. We can take it from here."

Vincent ducked his head. He wanted so badly to leave, but the job wasn't done yet.

"I'll see this finished first, sir. I can't go back to her until I can tell her we're safe at last. When I can tell her that and really mean it, I'll be gone and you won't ever see me again."

Gordon smiled, albeit grimly. "I won't pretend I'm not pleased you're staying. This last push will be a battle, but with you and Marks, and the others that are on our team, we'll bring Muirfield and its Chimera project to an end, once and for all."

Vincent followed the former military intelligence officer out, the two men parting shortly after, Vincent to go to his room to change, Gordon to submit a report to his fellow officers. Keller was definitely on board for the final offensive.

Muirfield were going down for the last time.

Vincent moistened his dry lips and reached for his canteen. He could taste the grit of dust in his mouth and swilled the mouthful of water around before swallowing it. He lifted the powerful binoculars to his face again and focused on the building, watching the men and machines going back and forth, counting the armed guards positioned around the perimeter and the building itself. It was the most heavily fortified and defended of all the building, so it made sense to assume that this was where Muirfield were making their last stand.

It almost seemed poetic that an organisation that experimented on humans and created monsters should end up hiding on a base long regarded to be where humans experimented on alien monsters, if you believed the mythology. Since the advent of Google and the X-files it had also become one of the most un-secret secrets of the internet generation, the site photographed and discussed in minute detail, its so called secret, experimental aircraft catalogued, photographed, identified and published on the web for anyone to find. Officially it was the Nevada test and training range, bordering the Yucca flat region where nuclear testing took place back in the day. The whole area was supposedly patrolled by security personnel, seeded with buried motion sensors and covered by cctv cameras constantly monitoring movement. Signs warned that deadly force would be used if provoked, with lesser penalties of imprisonment and fines for unwary tourists. In all, the intimidation factor was high but the practicalities of covering the huge area surrounding the base one hundred percent were quickly blown full of holes when put to the test by Chimera. It had taken Evan, Vincent and a small team of similarly enhanced, former test subjects three days to infiltrate the area, approaching from different directions, traveling at night and avoiding the motion sensors, cameras and constant patrols. They were helped in part by tour groups traveling the back roads and drawing the attention of the security teams, the stretched forces concentrating on them and missing the fast moving two man teams evading detection under their very noses. They regrouped when they reached a ridge on the Papoose Mountain behind the facility, the vantage point giving them a broad overview. They watched the regular transportation of staff too and from the base via bus and plane, noting which buildings showed activity and those that were unused. The ground close to the base afforded little cover other than dust, gullies and low scrub making a covert advance difficult but not impossible for genetically enhanced super soldiers.

"There don't seem to be as many people about as I expected." Evan remarked, lowering his own binoculars and turned to Vincent. "I wonder if the rumours are true."

"What rumours?"

"That Area fifty one has been moved to another location. One not so popular with the UFO enthusiasts."

"You've seen the planes, the buses, they had people in them. There's something going on down there."

"Sure. That's what they want everyone to believe, but if that was the case, why would they let Muirfield suddenly take up residence? This is primarily an airforce base, supposedly for building and testing top secret spy planes and aircraft technology. Would you keep it in a place that every one on the planet knows about?" Evan argued. "They even have hi-res photos with descriptions and intel on all the buildings, for craps sake."

Vincent lowered his glasses and turned his head to look at Evan.

"It's all a sham? A show pony to keep everyone looking here when the real stuff is happening elsewhere?"

"Why not? Makes more sense than them letting Muirfield and a whole bunch of potential wiki-leakers onto the base to set up camp in one of their supposedly top secret hangers."

"Then how do you explain the F-16's and Blackhawk helicopters down there, window dressing?"

Evan snarled. "I'm not saying they don't have the set dressed convincingly, what I'm disputing is if any of these motion sensors and cameras are even working."

Vincent shrugged. "There's only one way to confirm or deny that statement." Slithering back from the edge of the ridge he took off the binoculars and started to strip off his back pack and other gear. Evan joined him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Testing your hypothesis. If it's all a sham I'll be able to get down and close before anyone reacts. If it's not a sham I'll be stopped before I get out of the foothills." He was down to his black tee-shirt, pant and boots, leaving everything else behind. The other four looked on without speaking. Vincent had wanted to bring his team of Reid, Jensen and Wilson along, but they couldn't travel fast enough and ended up being used to transport the covert team and drop them off, providing a fall back position if needed. But that was over twenty miles away. Instead there was Evan Marks together with Samuels, Carter, Hurst and Bennett. All of them had been radically altered like Vincent, all of them fast, strong and exhibiting varying degrees of enhancements. Each could transform quickly, but not all had infrared vision, each was strong but not all had spontaneous claws, one, Carter, had spines that appeared on his forearms while another, Hurst, had hard plates that encased his hands and forearms. What they all shared was a common desire to end the Chimera project and the grotesque experimentation. Not all the volunteers were ex-military, but all had been unwilling victims of Muirfield's insane plan to create a super soldier army. They had defected when offered the opportunity by Evan, but they were not the only result of the accelerated hybridisation. There were others who had survived the bombings, others who were probably waiting for them down in the hangers below. How many was unclear, how enhanced they were was also an unknown.

Vincent kept low, the sun had already long gone behind the mountain range plunging the landscape into a shadowy half light, muting colours and dulling outlines. He reached the foothills with no sign of response from the buildings still some way in the distance. No plumes of dust announced the imminent arrival of a security patrol, no search lights flooded the area. He avoided the ground sensors and used every bit of cover where possible until he reached a cleared area with a cluster of huge water tanks, the four smaller ones as big as a two storey house, the three larger as big as a four storey apartment block. Tire tracks gouged ruts in the dry dirt, circling the tanks and heading back towards the buildings, some distance still away. He crouched in the shadows of one of the tanks and scanned the buildings, looking for patrols, watching for movement. After fifteen minutes he set off across the open ground, the increasing gloom of night drawing in aiding his camouflage. Lights suddenly blazed into being, freezing him in his tracks. He flattened himself against the ground in a slight depression and waited for the sirens or sound of trucks approaching. After several minutes it was clear the lights had just switched on automatically in response to the lack of light, not because someone had seen him. Emboldened, he jogged on, reaching another roadway, this one bordered by power-poles and over head wires from the small substation to all the buildings. Some of them had outside lights, but many didn't, adding to the suspicion that the base was largely deserted. A huge expanse of grey tarmac stretched off to the side of the road, with two fighter jet parked primly on the painted lines. Here, surely he would be stopped or see evidence of someone responding to surveillance footage of his intrusion. Like a black panther he sprinted across the open space into the shadow of the aircraft. It all looked normal, but on closer inspection he saw that the two fuselage wheels, secured as they were with their bright orange chocks, were deflated, as was the nose wheel. There were no rockets or bombs suspended from the wings or belly of the plane, and the canopy had a thick film of dust on it. There was even a nest in one of the engine intakes, bits of twigs and grass hanging out and dropping on the ground below. Looking across to the other plane, he could see that was in a similar, dilapidated state. Whatever they had been used for, it had been a long time ago and now they were simply set dressing for aerial photographs. Just as Evan suggested.

The hackles rose on the back of his neck and he slowly looked over his shoulder. Shadows were moving swiftly across the scrubby terrain, his team catching up with him. They joined him in the shadows thrown by the planes, the tarmac still holding the heat of the sun and hot beneath their feet.

"Told you." Evan threw out, handing Vincent back his discarded gear.

Vincent quickly kitted up and they moved out, keeping low and using any cover available but honing in on the one building that still appeared to have a semblance of security surrounding it.

Catherine paced. She couldn't put her finger on what was wrong, but something was. The baby was asleep in her room but would be waking soon. Unable to settle she stood in the doorway, staring at her child, able to see it clearly in the dark room. She fidgeted restlessly and turned away just as a knock sounded at the front door. Frowning, she went to where she hid her taser, checking it was loaded before approaching the front of the house. It was probably just someone selling something, maybe school kids selling cookies, but this was the first time anyone had knocked a their door and she wasn't taking any chances. She went forward on silent feet, making sure that no shadow was cast to show her approach. She leant forward to peer through the spy hole but a high pitched wail from the bedroom spun her around. At the same time the door in front of her burst open and she was thrown to the floor, landing heavily. Her taser came up but it was kicked away and she was pounced on by several male bodies, her arms and legs secured before she could fight her way out of the holds. Her son continued to scream and howl in the bedroom, Catherine baring he teeth at her attackers, doing her best to kick and bite and wriggle out of the grip of the men holding her down. It was a silent struggle, the men hissing and grunting through their teeth as they manhandled their captive, gagging her before wrapping her in a black sheet to limit her movement and blindfold her. Despite all this she fought to be free, the men barely holding on to her as they carried her from the house, the street-lamp that usually illuminated the front yard conveniently broken, concealing the kidnapping taking place. In the bedroom the baby had finally been soothed into a quiet state after its fright, the agent holding the child cradling it carefully in his arms, swaddled in a dark blanket to disguise it while he carried it out to the waiting vehicle. The whole transition took less time than an advert break, the two agents left inside the house gathering supplies before switching off the lights and following their fellows out to the cars and getting in, the last man shutting the front door as best he could with its broken lock and splintered panels. The fleet of black SUV's moved out slowly, departing the neighbourhood as unnoticed as their arrival with nobody realising the drama just played out or the fate of the woman and child stolen in the night.

J.T returned from his grocery run, parked the camper-van in the driveway and walked around to the front door. He glanced at the street, thinking it darker than usual, then his hand encountered the smashed lock, the broken door swinging open, the house beyond dark and empty. In a state of shock he entered, the shopping bags forgotten, his voice barely above a croak.

"Catherine?" His footsteps echoed on the wood floor. He flipped a switch at the same time his loafers crunched on something underfoot. Light illuminated the entranceway and he stared at the scuffed and marked polished floorboards, the rug rucked up and askew, glass from a broken picture frame scattered everywhere.

"Catherine?!" He could hear the panic in his own voice, his feet taking him to the bedroom, there to find one of the windows wide open, the room as empty as the rest of the house, clothes and bedding strewn on the floor, drawers ransacked, belongings thrown about. Feeling his throat close up, he sat on the side of the bed and stared around, hardly able to take in what the evidence was telling him.

"No..." J.T shook his head in denial. Whatever had happened, he'd missed it by minutes. Whoever had taken them would have taken him as well if he'd been there. Now he was alone with no clue where to start looking or if he was going to be next. Maybe they were already on the way back to pick him up as well. That thought was enough to galvanise him into action. Gathering up what remained of Catherine's bit and pieces, the few baby items left behind and his own gear, he packed the camper, wrote a letter to the rental agency and left the key on the bench. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

Two questions kept whirling around in his head as he drove out of the small town and along the coast road. How the hell had they found them, and why had they waited so long to snatch Catherine and the baby? Make that three, how the hell was he going to explain this to Vincent when the big guy caught up with him?

Vincent and his team, using every bit of cover available, advanced through the sprawling complex of workshops, massive hangers, vehicle parks and rubbish dumps, systematically searching each building for evidence of occupation or recent use. Their ultimate goal was the one building that showed constant activity, men with guns patrolling haphazardly around the single story, nondescript collection of smaller workshops attached to another huge aircraft hangar. When they got closer is was evident no-one was aware of their presence, the security guards hardly glancing at the darkness beyond the reach of the floodlights attached to the building, some of them talking together, others taking time to have a smoke, the smell of tobacco redolent on the night air. The team of Chimera split up and headed off for their separate assignments, collectively to take down the cordon of security men without a shot being fired or the people inside the building being alerted to the danger outside. This they accomplished easily, the unconscious bodies heaped behind a stack of oil drums, each man secured and gagged and relieved of their weapons.

Next it was time to switch out the lights. The one enhancement all the Chimera shared was night vision, the one guarantee of advantage they had over the non-enhanced. They had already placed a charge on the power pole bearing the lines to the complex and it was set to blow. With the team positioned at the doors and on the roof, Vincent counted down to himself, the charge blowing on time and plunging the whole area into darkness. Evan was at his back as he entered through the door, instantly dodging to the right to clear the way for the man behind. Shouts could be heard from the people inside, wildly waving lights sliced through the darkness as the occupants ran with torches or used them to navigate about. Vincent didn't need any help seeing, his vision as good as if the rooms were bathed in pink sunlight. They met little opposition, appearing out of the darkness, the few that attempted to either shoot them or attack them taken out with a bullet or if a chimera, taken down with a tranq and left trussed where they fell. Opposition grew strong the closer they got to one area in particular, Vincent shrugging off a stray bullet that nicked his arm, returning fire and taking out the sharp shooter. Two huge guys, fully beasted out, charged at them, Evan and Vincent firing two tranqs into each before they were halted in their tracks, mere inches from Vincent's position. Whatever was in that room behind them was now their primary objective.

Catherine moaned behind her gag. It had been hours since they'd been snatched from the house. Her breasts felt tight and heavy, further reinforcing the length of time. Her son was long over due for a feed. She wriggled as much as she could, the enveloping fabric hampering her movements. The cloth around her head was suddenly released and she blinked at the sudden light. A man peered down at her and she made sounds behind the gag, imploring him to take it off. He stared down at her then seemed to come to a decision. Pulling out a huge knife he slid the cold metal under the material of the gag, against her cheek, and sliced it, releasing her mouth.

"Thank you," Catherine croaked, licking her dry lips. "I need to feed my son." She glanced downward, the thin fabric of her tee-shirt and enveloping shroud showing the evidence of her milk leaking, leaving behind a damp patch. "Can I see my son, he'll be hungry."

The man didn't speak, just reached over to the front seat and tapped the driver on the shoulder. At once the vehicle rolled to a stop. Catherine tried to see outside but the blackened glass and over cast sky revealed nothing of their current location. The slamming of a door and distance wail of a baby made her strain to look out the back window. The man beside her unwrapped her from her cocoon just as the door beside her opened and her squawling son was handed in, the baby pink in the face, eyes screwed up and little fists punching at the air. The rush of blood to Catherine's hands when her bonds were cut made her want to scream, but she took her son instead and instantly put him to the breast, uncaring of her interested audience. Her child tugging hungrily on her nipple making her wince, but she was too pleased to have him in her arms to complain. The door was slammed shut, making the baby jump but he quickly settled, the SUV pulling out and driving on as before.

The relief of having her child in her arms was overwhelming. To see him safe and cared for was also a relief. Trussed up as she was, she had thought of nothing else but the welfare of her child, worrying if they'd left him back at the house, whether he was still alive, when she would see him again, what was going to happen to them. Her brain buzzed with questions, but her consuming concern had been all wrapped up in the tiny scrap of humanity happily sucking every drop of milk from her breasts. At some stage someone must have changed him, the nappy not sodden as she'd expected. Thankful that someone had taken care of him properly, she relaxed a little, leaning away from the man beside her and concentrating her full attention on her child, ignoring everything else around her. Obviously whoever had them wasn't interested in harming her or her child, leading her to suppose that Muirfield had them captive. The one hope that thought engendered was the possibility that she would see Vincent soon, if it was Muirfield. If it wasn't, then she'd just have to wait and see who and what they wanted with her. She didn't know which she was hoping for.

And how the hell had they found them anyway? Why wait until now? They'd been hiding in Cambria for months, so why the delay? Had that uneasy sense of being watched have anything to do with this? Had that old lady been a spy or informant? She let out a chuckle, the men in the car all glancing at her in surprise. Catherine didn't pay them any mind, they were unimportant. She would do nothing to endanger either her own life or her child's, and neither, she suspected, would they. Whoever wanted her and her son so badly that they sent an entire squad to pick her up, wasn't about to risk injuring her or harm the baby. Catherine was content with that. Anything outside of that she'd deal with when it presented itself. For the time being her babe was in her arms and safe and that was all she cared about. That and being reunited with Vincent again. God she missed him.

They placed an explosive on the door and stood back, the charge blowing the lock and flinging the door wide in a cloud of smoke. Once it cleared they entered, taking either side and facing whatever was in the room. A single man stood at its center, feet apart, hands behind his back. Vincent looked around the room, looking for a hidden threat. There was none. He glanced over at Evan, who looked equally baffled. Whatever was going on, Evan appeared as clueless as himself.

"What the fuck it this?" Vincent advanced on the man, his anger rising. "Where's Muirfield?!"

The man smiled smugly. "There is no Muirfield any more. The whole organisation has been disbanded."

"Is this a joke?" Evan asked, looking around, same as Vincent, for what was patently not there. "What the fuck were those big apes defending if there's nothing here?"

The man shrugged. "They were necessary for credibility. Window dressing, if you like."

Vincent took off his pack and dropped it to the ground, his eyes glowing fiercely. "It's a sham. You were right, there's nothing here, never was."

The man smiled thinly. "You effectively destroyed Muirfield when you razed the Kansas installation. The organisation, such as it was, has crumbled and the remnants scattered back into the wood pile."

"Then this was what, an exercise? A test?" Vincent snarled.

"Your passing out parade." The man replied. Vincent and Evan gaped at him. A door off to the side opened and the rest of their team entered, followed by several familiar faces including Lieutenant Gordon and Doctor Marshall and other members of the groups he'd met back in Oklahoma. They all lined up behind the man already there, including Jensen, Wilson and Reid, none of them meeting Vincent's eye, standing at ease like the man out front.

Vincent took a step back, his rage turning to bafflement. "Why all the misdirection, this last mission, what was the point?"

"We have a proposition for you , Vincent. What I said about Muirfield is true, it is no more. You and the others like you have put it out of action for good. There will be no more experiments, no more laboratories, no more chimera other than those created to date."

"And your proposition?"

"Work with us. Muirfield is gone, from American soil, but not from the world. There are similar organisations in other countries that need a team of highly specialised soldiers to take them out. Your loyalty to your country is undisputed, now we need to call on your loyalty to your race."

Vincent laughed harshly. "My race? Is being a beast now classed as a race? I said I'd give you six months, and I have. If you're finished with the charade, I'll be on my way. I'll leave you to play super soldier on your own. I'm done with that."

"Even if it means turning your back on a cure?" Doctor Marshall called out.

"There is no cure for me. I had my chance and it's gone. Dangling that carrot won't work. There is nothing I want from you, and nothing you can offer that would induce me to stay." Vincent turned away, bitter at once more being played like a puppet. He was done with the insanity and just wanted to go and find Catherine and peace. He felt weary to the bone. He started to peel off his gear again, dropping it to the floor. Evan was talking to Gordon, the rise and fall of their voices barely registering.

It had all been a hoax, a final exam to test what? His loyalty? His courage? What did they hope to achieve. Evan had been as much a dupe at he'd been, but then he hadn't been living with being a Chimera for as long as Vincent had. Probably he thought it a bonus to being alive at all. Let him be the one to take on Europe and whatever madness was taking place over there. Vincent just wanted to go home, to Catherine. He started to walk, not listening to the voice behind him, shrugging off hands that tried to hold him back. He walked out into the night, breathing in the dry night air, filling his lungs as if to clear them of the stench of disappointment and betrayal. He longed for Catherine, longed to touch her, taste her, envelop himself in her. The dark swallowed him.

"Vincent!" a cry and a faint wail halted his steps. He listened. The voice called his name again and he turned. A fleet of dark cars were pulled up outside the building and someone was standing some distance away from them, isolated on the grey expanse of tarmac. A faint breeze washed over him, bringing with it her scent and his body came alive. The breeze also carried a new scent, at once familiar and unknown. She called his name for a third time, but he was already running.

Catherine stared into the darkness, blinking away tears that blurred her vision. The baby shifted sleepily on her shoulder, unaware of the anguish of its mother. She tried to wipe away the moisture blinding her and when she blinked he was there, jogging towards her. He slowed his pace to a walk, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he expected her to disappear if he blinked. Catherine stared back, so happy to see him whole, so happy just to be able to look at him. He stopped a foot from her.

"I'm not a mirage, Vincent. I'm here." She smiled at him, all the fright and worry of the past hours wiped away. She saw his eyes shift to the bundle in her arms. "You have a son, Vincent. A beautiful healthy son." She saw tears well up in his eyes, and felt her own do the same. Swallowing hard she shifted the child off her shoulder to lay in her arms, her free hand pushing the blanket away from the baby's face. "Come and see your son."

Vincent stepped closer, dragging his gaze from her face to the tiny one nestled in her arms.

"We have a son?" Vincent's voice came out hoarsely, as if rusty from disuse. He lifted his hand to touch the child's head, but hesitated.

"He's strong, Vincent, strong and healthy. He won't break if you touch him." She urged him, heedless of the tears tracking down her face as her lover gently laid a hand on the baby's head and smoothed it over the downy hair, so dark like his own and Catherine's.

"I have a son?" He looked up, a smile breaking over his face like a sunrise. "We have a son."

Catherine returned his smile with a watery one of her own. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"God, I've missed you." Vincent whispered, leaning forward across the babe and kissing her.

The touch of his lips on hers was electric, a hunger building inside them to have more. The kiss deepened until they forgot the baby between them, pressing closer until an indignant squawk reminded them of the third person in their little family. They both laughed, grinning like fools as the baby kicked and waggled its arms, staring up at the stranger looming over it with wide, golden brown eyes. Catherine held him out and Vincent hesitated a second, then took the child in his arms for the first time, the baby becoming quiet as he settled into the cradle of his fathers hands. Catherine wiped at the tears still spilling over despite the wide smile on her face, then she reached up to wipe the ones away on Vincent's cheeks as well, smoothing them with her thumb, her fingers tracing softly over his scar.

Vincent looked up. "He's beautiful."

"He is," Catherine agreed, laughing softly.

Evan Marks watched the family reunion from a distance, his mouth twisting as he acknowledged that there had never been a chance for him with Catherine. He had been deluding himself that if he became a copy of Vincent, became a hero like him, then Catherine would look at him the way she was looking at Vincent right now. It was madness. She had only ever had eyes for him. Her relationship with Evan had been a faint shadow to the passion she shared with the other man.

Turning away he faded back into the shadows, leaving the small family to themselves and removing himself from the scene forever. Maybe Gordon would accept him as a replacement for Vincent. Europe might be far enough away for him for start to forget.

"You haven't named him?"

"I didn't have the heart to, not without you there. I wanted you to choose."

Vincent stroked the soft head where it rested on Catherine's shoulder, the child's face turned to the side with a plump finger resting between cupid lips even in sleep. Catherine was rocking from side to side, a soft undulating move that had the baby asleep in moments once the novelty of staring up at its father wore off. Vincent could now wrap mother and child in his arms, resting his cheek on Catherine's crown, drinking in her scent combined with warm baby.

"What about William?" Vincent murmured. "After my brother."

Catherine smiled. "Perfect. And maybe James for a second name?"

"Perfect. J.T will be thrilled."

They moved together, Vincent echoing Catherine's rocking motion so that they were almost dancing together, like they'd done at the wedding, slow and sweet.

"Are we prisoners?" Catherine asked at last, pulling back a little.

Vincent shook his head. "No. It's all over, finished, for us at least. We can go home now. Together."

"Home to New York?"

"Where ever you want to go. Home is where you and William are. We're free."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Vincent pulled her back into his loose embrace, Catherine laying her head on his shoulder, the baby safe between them.

Lieutenant Gordon approached the couple cautiously, but Vincent heard him and raised his head, his eyes glowing a soft gold but still a warning. Gordon halted and stood a little way off.

"I've arranged some quarters for you and Ms. Chandler on base. It's late and I propose you rest before driving back to civilisation. There's things we need to discuss in the morning.." He stopped when Vincent bared his teeth, his eyes now a fierce gold. "I accept that you no longer want to be apart of our organisation, but you've fulfilled your part of the bargain and something is owed to you for that. Call it a retirement remuneration."

Catherine raised her head and looked up at Vincent. "I wouldn't mind a few hours sleep. It's been a busy night."

Vincent glanced down at her, his expression softening. "Sure. We can stay a few hours." He looked up at Gordon, his face hard again. "But then we're gone."

Gordon spread his hands. "One of the SUV's are at your disposal. Just don't go until you've seen me. I'll show you the way to the quarters."

Catherine wasn't lying when she'd said it had been a busy night. Truth be told she was out on her feet, only held up by the arm Vincent held about her waist, the weight of the babe almost too much for her to support. Vincent realised this after they'd only gone a few steps. Bending down he scooped her up, baby and all, into his arms and followed after Lieutenant Gordon, Catherine only putting up a token protest before snuggling into his embrace and relaxing against him.

The quarters were spartan but someone had the foresight to push two cots together and spread the mattresses sideways across the frames to make a double bed. A sheet and pillows finished off the makeshift arrangement but it was heaven when Vincent lay her down on it before unlacing and kicking off his boots and laying down beside her, gathering her into his arms, the baby securely wrapped beside her and Vincent spooned up against her back. His heat enveloped her, his heart beating strong against her back, just as she'd dreamed of during the long months apart. It didn't matter if where they were wasn't a palace, she just needed him by her side, together, unshakeable, unbreakable.

(authos note: apologies for the long delay but long work shifts and real life demanded attention, as they do. This is not the end of the story, but nearly. A little way to go yet.)


	21. Chapter 21

Vincent faced Gordon across a table, the two men not speaking, just looking, weighing up, deciding. Gordon cleared his throat.

"Did you sleep well?"

Vincent allowed himself a small smile. "Better than I have in months."

"Good. Look, I know you have little reason to trust us, but I would like to try and persuade you to reconsider. You're a natural leader with skills and talents we can't replicate. We need you."

Vincent leant forward. "You're asking me to make a choice between you or my family?" He gave a derisive snort. "No contest. Say what you have to say and let me go. I have a life to live."

Gordon sat back. "You would give up the possibility of a cure for a life of, what? What are you skilled to do, Vincent? Serve french fries? Clean up after people? You can't be a doctor again, so what are you fit for?"

Vincent smiled again. "I'll find out. Whatever it is, I'll have what I've always wanted, and that's enough. I'll dig ditches as long as I have that. You have nothing I want."

Gordon sighed. "I said I'd try, and I've tried. I know a lost cause when I see one." He stood up and held out his hand. "I wish you luck, Vincent. I hope your future turns out to be everything you dreamed of." The two men shook hands. "One last thing. You haven't once asked about payment for your services, so this has been put together for you. Something to tide you over until you decide what you're going to do with the rest of your life." Gordon handed him a bulging envelope. Vincent took it but didn't open it.

"Good luck in Europe. Evan is a good man."

Gordon shrugged. "But not the best man. Goodbye, Vincent. You won't be hearing from us again. You're free to go."

"I always was. But now I choose to be free." Vincent saluted the retired officer, every inch the soldier, then he dropped his arm, smartly turned on his heel and left the room.

Catherine sat on the bunk, playing with William, blowing on his feet one at a time, the baby chortling and kicking his legs until she captured one and ticked it with kisses. Vincent entered and she looked up, smiling with the pure joy of seeing him again. Vincent approached the bed and sat on the edge.

"We can go now. We're free."

Catherine watched him tickle William's cheeks, the baby staring up at him wide eyed.

"Where are we going to go?"

Vincent looked up and met her curious stare. "Anywhere we want. North, south, east or west. Choose a direction and we'll go there."

"No more hiding?"

Vincent shook his head. "No more running, hiding, false identities or looking over our shoulder."

Catherine gave him a wry smile. "There's still that little matter of the open case on Joe's brother."

"True. Maybe I'll need to have a false identity, but not you and not our son." He leant down and kissed his child on its downy head, the baby reaching up for him, tiny hands opening and closing. Vincent let the child grasp his fingers, pulling William up into a sitting position.

"He has a strong grip."

"He's his father's son," Catherine remarked, gazing fondly at her two favourite people. "Can we go now?"

Vincent nodded and stood up, bending down to pick up his boy and carry him. He reached out his free hand to pull Catherine off the bed. She let her momentum bring her close, resting her hands on his broad chest and looking up into his beloved face. Vincent bent his neck and their lips met, the kiss deepening as feeling took hold and long-denied passion flared between them. William grabbed a handful of short dark hair and pulled, Vincent reflexively pulling his head away and breaking the kiss.

"Ouch. Tyrant. We're going, we're going." With his son held against his shoulder and an arm about Catherine they left the quarters and stepped into the bright sunshine.

The car had a baby seat and Vincent strapped his son into the capsule on the back seat, Catherine getting in on the other side to sit beside the baby. Vincent got behind the wheel and turned the key already in the ignition. The engine roared into life, but he sat there a moment looking out over the bonnet to someone watching in the shadows of the building. It was Evan. Vincent lifted his hand and Evan mirrored the gesture. Catherine was looking at William and didn't notice the silent farewell.

"Does this mean I can call Tess?" Catherine asked, Vincent tooling the vehicle around in a wide circle to get back on the road leading out of the complex.

"Muirfield are gone, Catherine, we have our lives back. You can call whoever you want." He met her eyes in the rear view mirror. "We can start building something for the future now."

"I like the sound of that."

The black SUV ate up the miles, dust billowing out in a cloud behind them, masking the buildings that rapidly shrank into the distance. The vehicle had a full tank of gas to take them wherever they wanted to go. Catherine's belongings, taken from the house in Cambria, was packed in bags over the back, alongside a smaller bag of clothes belonging to Vincent. An hour and a half later they reached the tee-junction with highway three seventy five, better known as the extraterrestrial highway.

"Left or right?" Vincent asked once they passed through the gate guarding the entrance, unhindered by the security posted there.

"What are our choices?"

"Well, you have Las Vegas about two hours that way..." he nodded his head to the right. "And a shit load of dirt and rocks that way." He nodded left.

"Las Vegas it is then. William is asleep."

"Then come up front and keep me company," Vincent suggested, waggling his eyebrows. Catherine laughed and clambered over the seats, not wanting to be opening and shutting doors incase they woke the sleeping child.

A soon as she was seated they moved together at the same moment, lips meeting in a deep and satisfying kiss, hampered only by the limitation of the front cab of the SUV.

Vincent pulled back first, cradling Catherine face in his hands, his gaze roaming over her features, drinking her in. "Have I told you how much I missed you, how much I love you?"

Catherine gave him a slow smile, her eye sparkling. "You might have mentioned it, but no harm in doing so again." They came together again, hungrily, as if to make up for all the lost time in a single kiss. Catherine pulled back a little and licked her lips making Vincent growl at the small movement.

"Marry me."

Vincent checked. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, marry me."

He grinned. "Yes." And kissed her again. A minivan crowded with tourists chugged past, the occupants cheering and breaking the spell. "Marry me soon, because I think I'll explode if I have to wait much longer." He told her throatily, his eyes showing sparkles of gold.

Catherine laughed. "Find us a half way decent motel and you won't have to."

A little over two hours later they arrived in the outskirts of Las Vegas for the second time, the atmosphere a far cry from the desperation and fear of their last visit to the city.

They had stopped only once along the way, when William woke up and demanded a feed, Vincent taking part for the first time, watching his son at his lover's breast, the two of them sharing a smile over the top of their son's head.

"You're so beautiful," said Vincent, reaching over to tuck a wayward strand of dark hair back behind her ear. "I'd forgotten how beautiful."

"In two day old clothes, no shower and no make up?" Catherine cocked an expressive eyebrow at him.

"Perfect." Vincent grinned. "I'm thinking a motel with a big tub to soak in."

"Hmmm scented candles, soft music, handsome man in a hot tub, I could see that happening."

When William was done she handed him over to his father to bring up his wind. Vincent carried him out of the vehicle and walked beside the SUV, shaded by some scrubby trees. Catherine opened the passenger door and slid out, going around to the back to set up a changing mat in readiness. They were down to their last diaper. She moved the bags and a fat white envelope fell out of Vincent's. She held it up.

"What this?"

Vincent shrugged. "Gordon handed it over when he said goodbye. Said it was some sort of remuneration."

"You haven't opened it." Catherine turned it over, feeling something hard inside the paper.

"You open it, I have my hands full."

Catherine sat on the tailgate and slid a thumb nail under the flap, the envelope containing several items.

"There's a wad of cash here." She whistled. "A lot of cash. Couple of credit cards. And documents." Something fell out onto the ground. "And a key."

"Cash is good. I was wondering how we were going to pay for stuff." Vincent patted William on his back, the baby obliging by bringing up a sizeable burp.

"I was wondering too. I haven't found my wallet yet." She tucked the cash back in the envelope and stared at the key. "Wonder what this is for? Safe deposit box?"

"What do the papers say?" Vincent sauntered over, William wriggling in his arms.

Catherine put the key in her jean's pocket and read through the papers, frowning while she did so, then she gasped.

"What?"

"Um...well, the letter says these are papers to a sizeable chunk of land." She held them up for him to read.

"Where the fu...er...heck is Glens Falls?" Vincent cast a sideways look at his son.

Catherine looked at the paperwork again. "New York state, Warren county on the Hudson River."

"Ever been there?"

"Nope. But it says here there's a house, some land and all signed over to you. That's quite a retirement package."

"It could be a shack in a swamp." Vincent said repressively. Catherine laughed.

"I'd be happy if it was just that, as long as we're all together and not looking over our shoulders all the time."

They exchanged possessions, Catherine taking William to change, while Vincent read through the paperwork, his brow furrowing the more he read. He looked up. "The credit cards are loaded too, and one of these documents are for if we get held up by the police and need identification. Gordon has thought of everything."

"That's good, because as far as I can tell my wallet is with J.T. I don't even have my driver's license." Catherine told him. She finished buttoning up William and picked him up. "We'd better get going. That was our last nappy."

They made for an odd sight rolling up to the Desert Rose Hotel in their dusty SUV, Vincent still in his black commando gear, Catherine still looking a little dishevelled with William in her arms and their minimal luggage. The desk clerk didn't bat an eyelid and gave them a one bedroom suite with a cot for the baby on presentation of the platinum card. Vincent signed them in as Mr. and Mrs. Keller, taking a perverse delight in being able to sign his own name, Catherine giving him a saucy look when she saw his appellation for her. Their pitiful luggage was carried by an impassive staff member who led them to their suite, returning shortly with the requested cot before leaving them to settle in. The bathroom was a wonder of modern plumbing and Catherine was quick to take advantage, filling the luxurious tub and stripping herself and the baby down to the skin. Loath to be left out, Vincent followed suit, shedding his clothes and sinking into the sinfully silky water at the opposite end to Catherine.

"Oh. My. God." He groaned appreciatively, his head dropping to rest on the edge of the bath. Catherine was scooping water over William with one hand while the other cradled him against her breast. Vincent looked up, his eyes warm with love, drinking in the beauty of Catherine and his child together, both of them smiling and enjoying the simple pleasure of a bath. William was chortling and testing his legs, kicking vigorously.

"Here, give him to me. I'll hold him while you relax." Vincent held out his hands and Catherine handed his son over. With the baby held safely in Vincent's broad hands, Catherine sank into the water, her arms on the edge of the back and watched the two of them through half closed eyes. The baby was all softness and pink against Vincent's darker skin and scarred body, his fierce beauty a contrast to the baby's unlined innocence. Vincent's face was wreathed in smiles as William gurgled and kicked at the water, held securely in his fathers hands. Catherine sighed and leant her head on the rim of the tub, the weight of worries carried in the months past sluicing off her shoulders like the sweat off her skin. Peace was an unfamiliar state, something she'd only ever known in Vincent's arms for those brief times they'd been together. Now it was back again, the sounds of splashing and chortles music to her ears. Vincent made a sound and she opened her eyes, laughing to see her son relieving himself all over his father's chest.

"I'll hop out and get William dry, he's due for a feed." Catherine heaved herself out of the water, Vincent watching her every move, his eyes hungry and hot as they swept over her breast, her belly and below. Catherine could feel herself blushing under his gaze, noting his reaction to her clearly visible below the water level. Towelling herself off quickly she spread one of the uber-fluffy towels on the floor and took hold of William, quickly drying the squirming bundle and picking him up, not bothering to catch her own towel that slid off her body to the floor. It felt perfectly natural to be naked, her skin glowing under Vincent's ardent gaze.

"William will probably have a nap after his feed." She tossed over her shoulder, hips swaying as she presented him with her back view and walking out of the bathroom.

Vincent groaned, his body's reaction stiff and proud under the surface of the water. Leaning back against the rim of the bath he closed his eyes and replayed the last few minutes, loving the sway of the perk breasts and their dark crests so temptingly close, then that pert and rounded bottom walking away from him. He growled softly and sat up, reaching for the complementary shampoo to wash himself from top to toe. He hoped William went to sleep quickly.

Catherine sat swaddled in a towelling robe, her son at her breast, his eyes already drooping even as he continued to suckle. She lowered her head and buried her nose in his silky hair, smelling his baby sweetness and wishing she could bottle it. Tucked into the folds of the towel, William fell asleep mid-suckle, her nipple sliding from his slack mouth. Careful not to wake him, she placed him on her shoulder and got up to walk around the room, softly patting him on the back to bring up any wind. A few soft burps later and he was ready to put into the cot, sound asleep. They had stopped at a gas station for some necessary supplies and she carefully secured a nappy on his bottom before wrapping him snuggle and kissing his head. She felt Vincent come up behind her, his warmth enveloping her even before his hand found her waist.

"He is beautiful," he said in a whisper. "Just like his mother."

"As beautiful as his father," Catherine replied, turning to look up at him.

They stared at each other, the only sound in the room the soft snuffles of the infant before them.

Vincent found Catherine's hand and drew her away from the cot, his free hand pushing the robe off her shoulders to drop with a soft thud to the carpet. He only had a towel around his hips, that too following the robe to puddle on the floor. Naked, they approached the bed connected only by their eyes and hands, Vincent pushing back the covers and drawing her forward until they stood flush together, hands no longer entwined but exploring, touching, smoothing over satin skin. Vincent lowered his head and their lips met, softly at first, then more urgently, hungrily. Catherine could feel all of his hard body pressed to hers, her fingers skimming over his arms, her own skin tingling with awareness of the formidable male body urgently aroused against her own softness. Vincent cupped her face and plundered her mouth, his tongue sweeping over hers, tangling, caressing, drawing her down, onto the welcoming mattress, the coolness of the sheets soothing his over heated skin.

"I want you so badly," he whispered hoarsely, his body quivering with need. "I want this to last but I don't think I will." Catherine smiled.

"We have all the time in the world to make it last. Take me now, Vincent, I want you inside me now."

He didn't waste time answering, just flipped them over and buried himself in her hot, slippery depths, both of them groaning at the intimate contact, Catherine wrapping her slender legs about his hips as he drove home filling her completely.

"Oh my, God, I love you," he growled softly, capturing her lips again as she arched against him, pulling him into her body even deeper.

"Want you, need you," she gasped, her hands pulling his head down, fingers burrowing into his short hair, scraping over his scalp and making him purr.

He was able to make it last long enough for Catherine to convulse under him, her body shimmering around him, bringing on his own toe curling climax as they clung to each other, joined as closely as two people could possibly be.

Hearts thundering, they lay entwined, panting in the aftermath, sprawled across the bed in a well satisfied tangle of arms and legs.

Catherine was the first to recover, stroking Vincent's shoulders and arms with a languid hand while he panted into the crook of her neck, his lips taking a lazy inventory of her ears and temple.

"I missed you so much," Catherine whispered. "I missed this so much." Vincent raised his head.

He stared down at her, his brow creased in an earnest frown. "I thought about you every moment of every hour of every day. I love you more than I ever thought possible. I'm sorry I wasn't there when William was born, but I'm here now, and I won't ever leave you or him ever again."

Catherine smiled serenely up at him, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, lingering on his scar before smoothing his eyebrows and then his lips, Vincent pulling one finger into his mouth to nibble on.

"I made J.T an honorary uncle. He was wonderful. He did everything and more. I couldn't have asked for a better midwife. He took good care of us, Vincent. Very good care."

"Remind me to thank him, when I find him."

It was Catherine's turn to frown. "How are we going to find him? He must have been devastated to find us gone from the house. God knows where he's gone to ground."

"Then we'll have to wait for him to surface. There's way and means." Vincent told her, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Poor J.T. He'll be blaming himself..."

Vincent shifted a little, making Catherine give a little gasp as his body slowly moved creating a delicious friction.

"That was a quick recovery!" She teased, moving with him, enjoying the slide and pull of his body against hers.

Vincent grinned down at her. "I have a lot of lost time to make up for." He cocked an eyebrow while still moving inside her. "Unless you're too tired?"

Catherine pulled him down so his lips hovered over hers. "Not a bit." The kiss that followed was slow and thorough, re-building the conflagration in their bodies until the bed quaked and the warm afternoon was filled with the soft sounds of lovers renewing their unspoken vows to cherish, adore and give wholeheartedly to each other body and soul.

When William awoke they went shopping, refreshing their meager wardrobes and garnering supplies for the trip east. Shopping over they had a leisurely and very public meal in the restaurant along with other families doing the same, for once enjoying the same simple pleasures as other couples with their young children without fear of reprisal for appearing so openly and without the usual precautions. Catherine was introducing William to solids, mostly a smidge of cereal and mashed banana to keep him amused while his parents tucked into their first, sit down, openly together meal. Vincent switched his attention between his delightfully messy son and his beautiful, well satisfied lover. Catherine lifted her hand and the ring on her finger glittered brightly under the lights. Vincent looked down at his own hand sporting a similar, but more male design on his own left hand. He had insisted they get similar engagement rings, Catherine not protesting when she saw the array spread out in the jeweller's shop. Even William had put his oar in, gurgling and chortling when Catherine held up a particular ring, but not when she held up others for his inspection. The shop assistant smiled indulgently, admiring the handsome man and sighing at the lovely family they made together.

The meal over they returned to their room and spent the next hour until William's feed playing with their child, reveling in the ability to just touch and laugh unfettered and free, able to enjoy the carefree time untroubled by cares. When William next went down for a nap they made leisurely love, not joining together until each had been explored and mapped by hands and mouths bringing them both to a quivering brink, their eventual fusing, one into the other, so intense and earth shattering they lay for long moments afterwards just trying to catch their breaths and listened to their hearts beat wildly in the aftermath. Eventually Vincent was able to lift his head and grin down at Catherine who lay still with her eyes closed.

"It's just as well I'm fit, a lesser man would be dead after what we just did."

Catherine peeped up at him through her lashes, even that effort almost too much. She felt completely boneless, her arms and legs like jelly.

"Didn't we die? I'm sure I saw stars."

Vincent chuckled and pulled out, both of them groaning at the loss. He lay on his back beside her, his heart still beating a rapid tattoo in his chest.

"I've been thinking about this marriage thing." He said at last.

"Marriage thing?"

"Yeah. I think we should wait."

Catherine turned her head to look at him. "Wait? Why?"

"Because I think we should have our friends and your family there."

Catherine felt her eyes well up, and swallowed hard. "You do?"

Vincent nodded. "We're engaged, so why the rush. Let's see this so-called property in Glens Falls, make contact with Tess and J.T. Find out where your family are then plan something so everyone can take part."

Catherine shifted on to her side and propped her head on her hand. "That could all take some time."

Vincent turned to look at her. "But it will be worth it in the end. Don't you think?"

Catherine smiled at him, her eyes warm and loving. "I think it would be perfect. Plus, depending on how long it all takes, William will probably be toddling by then. He can be our ring bearer."

Vincent snorted. "Not if you want to wear them. I remember episodes of AFV with the kids causing a riot and throwing rings, flowers you name it all about."

Catherine sighed. "You have a point. Maybe not ring bearer then."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Vincent reached up and cupped her cheek, softly pulling her down until their lips touched and they kissed sweetly.

"I'm still so in love with you," Vincent whispered against her lips, cradling her head and moving his mouth against hers. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling as passion flared again.

This time Catherine made him lay there while she explored his supine body, her mouth making sweet love to him, kissing each new scar and recognise old friends, working her way down his superb frame driving him mad until she had to stop because he couldn't keep still under her ministrations.

"Witch," he growled when she straddled him, taking him into her body slowly, tormenting him until she was seated fully, her hands braced on his chest and her head thrown back, hips moving in a rocking motion. Vincent watched her take her pleasure through half closed eyes, his breathing hectic with the combined stimulation of sensation and sight. Catherine picked up her pace, leaning forward close enough for Vincent to take her breast in his mouth as she continued to ride him, grinding herself against him until she started to shudder, gripping him tightly in the throes of her orgasm. Panting, she collapsed on his chest, his body still hard inside her. With care, Vincent sat up and turned them so he was on top, moving slowly, regularly, Catherine's lax body welcoming his possession. He suckled her breasts as he worked his hips, his body stiffening and shuddering in completion within minutes, her turgid nipple still between his lips and expressing a dew of sweet milk to linger on his tongue.

As they lay relaxed on the bed covers, William made his presence known, setting up a cry on awakening. Catherine stirred and eased herself stiffly off Vincent's softening cock, her breasts reacting to the call of her child and expressing more milk even as she climbed off the bed and reached for the robe.

While Catherine fed William, Vincent ordered room service and pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, ignoring the mew of disappointment from his lover when he covered himself for the sake of not shocking whoever delivered his order.

"Insatiable woman," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his bed hair before opening the door to admit the heavily laden trolley.

They set out early the next morning for their trip across the breadth of the United states, stopping along the way at Denver, Kansas city then Columbus, Ohio through Pennsylvania into New York state until they eventually rolled in to Glens Falls. William had been a good traveler, enjoying the frequent stops whenever the fancy took them, or the child needed a feed, their nights spent in comfortable motels. The trip had taken four days and three nights, Vincent and Catherine sharing the driving between them. Now they were about to find out what ex military, underground renegades thought constituted a suitable retirement remuneration.

"We're not going to see much in the dark," Catherine observed. "Why don't we just find a motel and take a look in the morning."

"Good idea. We'll need to contact someone before we take possession."

"No need. We have the documents and the key. There's a motel." She pointed to a brightly lit sign.

The next morning they were out early, having established the night before where they were going, using a local map supplied by the motel owner. The road they needed wound out of town and up into the hills bordering the valley, trees hedging the road edge. At regular intervals ornate wooden houses could be seen through the leafy cover, the suburb heavily wooded with good roads and well maintained front yards. Sun slanted through the branches dappling the road, the spruce and maples showing the first touches of autumn colour. Vincent was driving while Catherine stared out at the houses passing every few hundred feet, counting off the numbers to reach their destination.

"That was two ten, so ours should be the next one on the right." She told him. William gurgled in the back seat and she looked over to smile at him.

"Here it is." Vincent announced. He turned the car into the driveway between round stone walls, the letter box clearly showing the right number. Oak and elm trees shaded the driveway as it wound out of sight of the main road ending shortly in a wide space in front of a double garage with a steep pitched roof. Next to that was single story annex joining the garage block to a two story white house of the same style as those further down the road. It had a steep pitched grey roof with twin dormer windows sporting red shutters beside each one. It had a covered porch with ornately carved support posts and matching colonial style hand rail with stone steps leading to the front door. The pathway was edged with more rounded river stones and the grass had been recently cut. Altogether the property was neat and tidy and looked well cared for. Tall trees surrounded the house, but didn't make it appear gloomy, everything green and living and providing a perfect setting.

Parking the SUV in front of the red garage door, they got out, Vincent gathering William out of his car seat. Together they approached the front door, Catherine brandishing the key, her hand shaking a little. She looked up at Vincent.

"You can have the honour," he said, jostling William in his arms. Catherine nodded. Putting the key in the lock she turned it, the mechanism well oiled and unlocking easily.

Together they cautiously entered, noting that the air didn't smell musty as you'd expect if a house had been shut up, and the surfaces were free of dust.

"Someone's been taking good care of the place." Catherine observed, moving to the wall to toggle the light switch. The lights came on without a flicker, illuminating the rooms and the furniture they contained. "Do you think this used to be a safe house?"

"Possibly," Vincent replied, carrying William through the open space to look out the glass doors leading to the back deck. "There's quite a lot of yard out the back." Catherine came to stand beside him.

"What do you think?" She asked. Vincent reached for her with his free hand, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"It's a great place to bring up a family." He looked down and met her eyes. "Could you be happy here?"

"Where you are is where I'm happy, and yes, it is a great yard for kids. Dogs as well."

They continued their exploration of the house, going upstairs and discovering three bedrooms under the steep pitched roof, all of the beds made up with good quality, if plain, linen. A cupboard near to the bathroom was stocked with towels of different colours, plus the dormers were repeated on the other side to look out over the back yard and trees beyond. Downstairs there was a large kitchen, dining room, lounge, a den off the covered sun porch and a huge fireplace, plus the laundry room leading to the garage. The furniture was modern, comfortable if not flamboyant and even the kitchen cupboards were well stocked with crockery and kitchen appliances. It was as if it had been waiting for them. The phone was even live when Catherine lifted up the receiving to check.

Only the complete lack of anything edible on the house confirmed it wasn't currently occupied.

"Do we dare?" Catherine asked, joining Vincent and William on the plump couch that faced the empty hearth. "Is it really that easy?"

William reached for her, chortling away and tugging on her shirt. Vincent handed him over to sit on her lap, putting his arm along the back of the couch and leaning in to plant a kiss on Catherine hair.

"Maybe this time, it really is."

(author's note: Was supposed to be the last chapter, but got caught up in all the family stuff. Still a bit to go yet. Enjoy.)


	22. Chapter 22

It took them a week to track down Tess, Catherine's best friend having moved from her elderly aunts to another town, but the letter found her eventually. An excited Tess called the home while Catherine was just putting William down for a nap.

"Hello?"

"Cat?" Tess's beloved voice crackled down the line making her blink back sudden tears.

"Tess? You got my letter."

"Is it true? Are you really free?"

"Yes, Tess. It's all over. We're hoping you'll come and visit."

"Wild horses wouldn't keep me away. How's William? I'm dying to meet him."

Catherine grinned, glancing over at the living room where her son slumbered peacefully on the couch. "Growing by the day. We're hoping you'll agree to be an honourary aunt!"

"Holy crap, how ageing that sounds. But yes, I'll be happy to." Tess replied.

The two friend spoke for half an hour, catching up on the main points of interest since they'd been forced to part in New York over fifteen month before. Plans were made for Tess to arrive the following weekend, flying in to the local airport in Albany.

Their search for J.T took longer, Catherine having to use all her former skills as a bounty hunter to track him from Cambria to a small community college campus tucked away in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Like Tess, they sent him a letter, complete with photos, and waited for a phone call.

Vincent was the one to answer it this time, as Catherine was in town with William; shopping.

"Keller household."

"Keller household? What sort of fucked up way is that to answer the phone?" J.T's disbelieving voice echoed down the line. "Are you asking to be found?"

"J.T?" Vincent queried.

"Of course the fuck it's me! You were expecting Santa?"

Vincent laughed. "He's already been this year."

"Are you whacked in the head? I'm packing – again – as we speak. You know they stole Catherine?"

"J.T calm down. Catherine is here, with me. Well, she's not actually here at the moment, she's in town shopping for clothes for William. He's growing so quickly..."

"You let her go into town my herself? With the baby? Are you insane?"

Vincent could almost see J.T pulling at his hair and reaching for a dispenser of Tums. "Honestly, J.T you need to chill. We're all fine here. We're safe and we're not going anywhere. It's all over, just as we said in the letter. No more Muirfield, no more black ops, no more looking over our shoulders."

The line was silent for a long moment.

"J.T?"

"Yeah. I'm still here. It's a bit hard to get my head around, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

His friend was silent again. Vincent waited. Finally J.T spoke.

"This place of yours looks pretty sweet. Any chance of an old friend paying a visit and checking it out?"

Vincent let out the breath he'd been holding. "Nothing we'd like better. I've missed you, J.T."

"Back attcha, big guy."

Catherine and Tess arrived back at the house with a sleepy William to the welcome news that J.T had been in contact and was on his way from Arizona.

"Is he flying?" Catherine asked, on her way to the stairs to put the baby down for his nap.

"Driving. It'll take him about three days. Did you leave anything for anyone else at the shops?" He surveyed the pile of shopping bags heaped on the floor. Tess appeared from the garage carrying more.

"Don't complain, big guy, wait until you see..."

"Tess!" Catherine's voice warning her friend floated down from upstairs.

"Yeah, well...you'll see." Tess added, giving Vincent a wink.

Catherine's reunion with her best friend had taken place a week earlier, at the Albany airport, an hour south of Glens Falls. Vincent held William, while Catherine almost hopped up and down, jittery with nerves.

"It's Tess, Catherine."

"I know, I'm just...I didn't think I'd see her again, you know?"

Vincent grinned. "Catherine..." He was staring at something over her head. Catherine swung around.

"Tess!"

"Cat!"

Vincent kept out of the way as the two women threw themselves at each other, hugging tightly and jumping up and down together, laughing. William pointed to his mother and gurgled.

"Yes, mummy is being very silly." Vincent agreed.

Tess was sporting a new, shorter haircut but was essentially the same, hugging Catherine within an inch of her life then suddenly catching sight of Vincent, her eyes opening wide.

"Oh, my God, is that William," Tess watched open mouthed as Vincent approached. "Cat, he's gorgeous!"

"Why, thank you," Vincent teased, Tess casting him a quick look before turning back to look at the child in his arms, William equally fascinated by Tess.

"Yeah, you too, Vin. Glad to see you still in one piece." Tess threw out. "Can I hold him?"

Vincent handed over his son into Tess's hands, the former tough police woman cooing and kissing the infant, turning to face Catherine who stood smiling broadly at her friend.

"You're a natural, Tess."

"He's so adorable," Tess gushed, William looking at her with a slightly startled look before reaching out for his mother, his face screwing up when she didn't instantly take him.

"Oops, better let me..." Vincent ducked back and quickly took the baby before he could work up to a lusty cry. Tess looked disappointed.

Catherine laughed and threaded her arm though her friends. "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to get to know each other. Let's go get your luggage."

Vincent watched the two women walk away, already chattering ten to a dozen.

"Come on, little man, time to go."

Vincent drove and listened as the two women behind him chattered and laughed, the sound of Catherine's happy voice music to his ears. Neither of them were untouched by their experience over the last few months, both of them suffering nightmares, Catherine often waking up and rushing off to check that William was safe in his cot, or thrashing and fighting in her sleep to stop someone carrying her off. Vincent wasn't much better, Catherine having to wake him when he shouted and fought the covers in the throes of his nightmare. Their only chance of sleeping after each incident was to take comfort in each others arms, releasing their fears in a rush of sexual heat, exhausting themselves in mutual passion and falling asleep entangled. Broken nights inevitably meant Catherine was often found asleep on the couch, curled up with her son, while Vincent sometimes caught up by napping on the comfortable padded lounger on the sun porch of an afternoon. It remained to be seen if the situation would improve with time.

Catherine returned downstairs to join Tess and Vincent in the kitchen where they were unpacking the shopping, although one bag remained apart, Catherine picking it up and carrying it into the lounge to hide it away for the moment.

"So when are you guys getting hitched?" Tess was asking when she returned, giving her friend an arch look. Catherine frowned and shook her head at Tess, to warn her not to say anything. Vincent pretended not to see the interplay between them.

"We still have to find out where Catherine's stepfather is, and we have no idea where Heather is until we find Thomas and Brooke." Vincent answered, passing a glass of juice to Catherine, casually leaning down to kiss her as she passed him.

Tess watched over the rim of her coffee mug, both surprised and a touch envious of their easy intimacy. Smiling brightly she returned to her favourite topic.

"So, Vincent, will you be getting in touch with your family?"

Catherine glanced up sharply and answered before Vincent could.

"No."

Tess looked taken aback. "Why not?"

"For any number of reasons, Tess." Vincent replied quietly. "As far as they are aware, I died over a decade ago, along with all the other members of my platoon. If I was to show up after all this time it would disrupt too many people's lives, people that have moved on from the loss of their loved ones. It would raise hope where there is none."

"You're not to know, Tess, but one of Vincent's platoon survived. She captured me to lure Vincent into a trap when we were on the run in La Grande. She was a creature of Muirfield, loyal to them for her very survival."

"What happened to her?" Tess asked.

"She's dead." Vincent replied. "Evan killed her."

"Evan?" Tess goggled at him. "But he was killed when you and Cat escaped, you told me he was shot multiple times!"

"They revived him and turned him into a beast, like me."

Tess stared at him, open mouthed. "Fuck'n oath. And this Lafferty, why wasn't she killed along with the rest of your platoon?"

"She survived the cull because she was being held in the medical wing, sedated because of the fugue state. She evolved too quickly." Vincent explained. Tess shook her head.

"This is incredible." She turned to Catherine. "You are going to have to sit down and tell me just what has been going on with you guys since I last saw you."

Catherine gave a wry smile. "That could take some time."

Tess gave her the eyebrow. "Well I ain't going no place, girlfriend!"

Vincent was already in bed when Catherine came out of the bathroom. He was sitting up against the head of the bed, the covers pushed down around his waist, exposing his upper torso to her appreciative gaze. She wore a pale blue, spaghetti strap silky slip that skimmed her body, leaving little to the imagination, just the way Vincent liked it. Switching off the overhead light, she slipped into bed, Vincent sliding down to meet her halfway, wrapping her in his arms. Catherine sighed deeply and hugged him close.

"I feel like I've been through an interrogation. Tess is relentless!"

"I thought you'd lose your voice at the end." Vincent teased, kissing her hair. His hunger for her never faded, but quiet moments like this were all the sweeter now they had the leisure to indulge in them.

"I've missed Tess. I'd forgotten what it was like to just enjoy another woman's company."

"J.T and I just don't fit the bill, huh?"

"You have your uses," Catherine retorted, trailing her fingers over his ribs and circling one of his flat nipples.

Vincent captured her hand to prevent it wandering. "Stop that. I never got to ask you how you got on with the bank?"

Catherine pouted and wriggled against him. "Spoilsport. I was able to access the account at last, once they verified my signature and checked the details I gave them. We'll have new cards posted out next week. You need to go in and give a signature as well, next time you're in town."

"Will do. When J.T gets here you'll have all your personal papers again. Do you need to go to New York to sort out the apartment?"

"No. I can do what I need to over the phone."

They lapsed into silence. Catherine closed her eyes and listened to Vincent's heartbeat.

"Do you think we'll miss it?"

"Miss what?"

Catherine sighed. "Since that first time I found you at J.T's warehouse, we've been living on the edge, and this last year we've been in a constant state of fight or flight. I just wonder sometimes if we'll be able to adapt to living in peace."

"I have thought about that myself," Vincent added after a moment. "After living so long with my Beast always on the verge of breaking free, I'm wondering if I've really got it completely under control, or is it just sleeping, waiting to break out when I least expect it."

Catherine nodded her understanding. "I haven't told you before, but I think I'm developing some enhancements of my own." She felt Vincent's muscles tense under her hand.

"You are?"

She nodded again. "Nothing like your Beast, but I can see clearly in the dark. Everything looks sort of pinkish when I go and check on William at night. Weird but useful."

Vincent drew in a sharp breath. "Anything else?"

Catherine lifted her head to meet his worried frown. "Nothing that I've noticed. Certainly no tendency to grow fangs or claws. If I had it might have helped when those apes kidnapped me and William to bring us to Nevada."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Actually no. Obviously they scared the shit out of me, thinking they were Muirfield, but they took good care of William, and I think only treated me as they did to stop me hurting myself fighting them."

Vincent gave her a squeeze. "I'm sorry they frightened you."

Catherine smiled against his chest. "It wasn't your fault. Thinking back, I guess they didn't have a choice, when you think about it. If they'd just knocked on the door I probably would have tasered the lot, shot them if I'd had a gun."

"Fierce woman. I'm glad you're on my side," Vincent teased, breathing deeply the better to relax. Over her head his eyes glowed gold, flaring and subsiding in response to hearing about her ordeal at the hands of the kidnappers, albeit supposedly friendly ones.

Catherine frowned in the darkness. "I have wondered how they found us. I did think someone was watching me when I went on my walks around the block, but I put it down to paranoia, given our situation. Maybe they always knew where we were, maybe there's a tracking device been planted somewhere in our stuff."

Vincent wrapped her more securely in his arms. "It's over, Catherine, over and done. We're together, William is safe, J.T is on his way, Tess is under our roof, and eventually we'll find where you family are and then we can get married and make you an honest woman."

Catherine snorted. "That'll be a novelty. I've been anything but since I met you." She lifted her head again, twisting to look at him. "Not that I would change one day of it, or any of the choices I've made because of it. I would do it all again in a heartbeat, Vincent, all of it."

"You knock me off my feet sometimes," Vincent replied softly. "So strong, so fierce. What did I do to deserve you?"

Catherine smiled and kissed him lightly. "You saved me."

"And you saved me." He echoed back. "So we saved each other?"

Catherine drew herself up so she lay on his chest, looking down into his face.

"I love you. I think I loved you from that first moment I saw you hiding away in the warehouse. You looked so vulnerable and afraid, I just wanted to protect you." She traced the scar on his cheek.

"And you tried so hard to get me to stay away.."

"But you kept coming back," Vincent finished. "And now you're stuck with me forever."

Catherine smiled. "Happily stuck, as you are with me."

Vincent grinned up at her. "What a pair we make."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Catherine spoke.

"I don't want to wait until my family are found. I want you to marry me right now."

Vincent cocked an eyebrow. "Right now? In the middle of the night?"

She swatted him. "No. But soon. After J.T gets here. We could have a combined wedding and naming celebration."

"Naming celebration?"

"To officially acknowledge William's name. I still haven't registered his birth, for obvious reasons, but with J.T here as witness to the birth, we can finally get the paperwork in order."

"Huh. Okay, one wedding and one naming ceremony. How soon can this all be arranged?"

Catherine shrugged. "I don't know, I'll find out. And something else."

Vincent groaned and covered his eyes. "What is it?"

"I've been thinking about this changing of names thing."

Vincent let his hand drop from his eyes. "What have you been thinking?"

"Well. I don't mind losing my last name and taking yours, that feels right to me. But I wondered if we could add my name to William's as a middle name? What do you think?"

"William James Chandler Keller. That could work. I don't mind. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Catherine tilted her head back and kissed him. "Thank you. I'll probably never know my biological father's name, but my Step-dad was a good father and a good man. I know he kept stuff from me and probably lied for the same reason, but he loved my mother, and I know he loves me."

Vincent hugged her tightly and kissed her hair. "Let's hope you get to tell him that one day."

They fell silent again. Vincent spoke just as Catherine was starting to doze.

"We may have a problem with getting a marriage license."

"Why?"

"I'm dead, remember? I don't have any of my usual documentation, no birth certificate, no social security number, listed as legally dead, wanted by the New York PD for various reasons, the list goes on."

"Hmmm. That could be a stumbling block. Do you think J.T might be able to cook something up for us?"  
"Possibly. Probably. Guess we'll have to wait and ask him."

Catherine snuggled closer. "We'll worry about that in the morning." She yawned. "William will be awake in a couple of hours." Her voice tailed off, already half asleep, lulled by the steady thump of his heart beneath her cheek.

"Yeah. We'll worry about that later." Vincent murmured softly in reply, still staring into the darkness while Catherine slipped into sleep.

His brain buzzed like an angry hornet, always coming back to Catherine admitting that she could see in the dark, a side effect of him giving her his corrupted dna. And if she was showing symptoms, how soon before their son started to exhibit strange enhancements or beast-like behaviour. Catherine had told him about Gabe's miserable childhood spent locked away in the basement when his rages turned him into an uncontrollable, violent creature. Was that in their son's future? Could he bring himself to shut his son away, hide him from public gaze because he took after his father? What if something happened when his son went to school? What if he hurt someone by accident? Would Catherine be adversely affected by more mutations? Would their child?

Consumed with guilt, Vincent stared into the inky darkness and felt helpless to prevent some if not all his nightmares coming true. What a bloody mess.

He was still struggling with his guilt over William when his son woke up and started to grizzle, the baby monitor alerting Catherine to her child's need.

"Men should have breasts so they can feed their kids," Catherine grumbled, her voice slurred with sleep. She slid from under the warm covers and padded out of the bedroom, leaving Vincent who still lay tense and awake. When she returned half an hour later he was still awake, Catherine climbing back into bed and pulling the covers over her shoulders.

"You haven't slept at all, have you?"

Vincent turned onto his back and looked at her. "What if William turns out to be like Gabe?"

Catherine let out a deep sigh and pushed the covers back. "You have to let it go, Vincent. I agonised over the same thing when he was born. J.T told me that my dna was changing and I'm sure that he tested William without me knowing, but I've had to come to terms with this. Would you love him any less if he had some other incurable medical condition? If he was deaf or blind, would that make him any less your son? No. It wouldn't make a scrap of difference, and you have to accept that. Whatever manifests in our son because of the corrupted dna, we're uniquely placed to deal with it. Gabe's parents didn't know what to do with him, or what was happening to him. We do. You do. Plenty of kids, for one reason or another, have a different life from those perceived as normal. Kids with intellectual or physical handicaps or difficult medical conditions all have different lives, but no less rich or loved for that. Our son has two parents ready and willing to cope with whatever eventuates. I'm not afraid of that, and neither will you be. I worry about him enough already, in the here and now, to be bothered wasting time worrying about the what if's or the unknown. You have to as well. We're living in a unique and untested situation here, but so far William is as normal as any other healthy, beautiful boy and I know you love him as much, if not more so than I do."

"I do," Vincent whispered, a tear escaping to roll down his face.

"And you love me. Do you trust me to do the very best for our child, whatever he becomes or has to over come?"

"I do."

"And I trust you to be the very best father, the very best teacher for your son if and when he has to learn to deal with whatever he has to deal with."

"I will be."

Catherine turned on her side and reached up to wipe away the tears still making Vincent's dark eyes glitter. "Then I can't ask for anything more, and your son will have the very best we can give him."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Catherine moved forward to kiss Vincent's face, her lips like a butterfly's caress on his damp cheek, his closed eyes and finally his trembling mouth.

"We will never stop loving him, Vincent, and I'll never stop loving you."

Catherine watched him struggled with his inner demons, his throat working while he fought to gain control over the emotions struggling just as hard to break free.

"You're not alone, Vincent, not any more," she whispered, pushing the covers back and throwing her leg over his waist to straddle him. With a quick motion she pulled off her sleep wear, the heat of his body between her legs making her melt, his hands coming up to rest on her thighs, stroking the taut skin in easy sweeps.

Vincent stared up at her, his eyes still awash with unshed tears, but now showing a hint of gold, his body responding to her blatant invitation, swelling and thickening, nudging against her bottom.

"Don't ever leave me," Vincent whispered, smoothing his hands up to cup her breasts.

"I won't," Catherine avowed, lifting herself up and back to take him into her body. They both gasped open mouthed at the sensation of their joining.

"Don't ever lose your faith in me," Vincent begged, moving his hips in rhythm with hers.

"I won't." Catherine moaned, pushing her eager nipples against his rough palms.

They moved together, Catherine writhing on top of him, her hands covering his where they covered her breasts, Vincent feeling her heart beating fast beneath her skin. In a fluid motion, he sat up so that Catherine now straddled his lap, impaling himself deeper and making her gasp. His arms encircled her back and his mouth found hers in a kiss that melded them even closer together, her arms looping around his neck, anchoring them together.

"You are so beautiful," Vincent breathed, lowering her to the bed and looming over her, his eyes glowing a deep gold as he possessed her body with powerful thrusts, Catherine wrapping her legs about his hips, opening herself fully to the force of his possession.

"Vincent..." Catherine keened, her mouth open as passion gripped her, Vincent growling in response, his heart racing even as his body convulsed, his hips jerking within the cradle of her thighs, pouring his essence into her undulating body.

"Oh, God, I can never have enough of you." Lowering his head he captured her lips again, Catherine bracketing his face with her hands, stroking and soothing while he plundered and worshipped her mouth.

At length they both calmed, Vincent slipping from the heat of her body to lay beside her on his side, still breathing deeply. Catherine mewed at his loss, but snuggled on to her side, presenting him with her smooth back so they spooned together, Vincent wrapping his arms about her and holding her close. He buried his face in her fragrant hair and kissed her rounded shoulder.

"Thank you." He breathed against her skin.

"You're welcome," Catherine replied, already half asleep. "Now sleep, that's an order."

"Yes, ma'am." Vincent smiled. Closing his eyes he let sleep claim him.

Vincent paced to the front window again, peering out at the driveway. Catherine watched him from the depths of the couch, William in his arms taking his midday feed. Tess sat in one of the single armchairs, sipping from a mug of coffee.

"It's like watching a Tiger prowling in a cage," said Tess, cocking an eyebrow at her friend.

"I heard that," Vincent growled.

"Even sounds like a Tiger," Tess smirked.

Vincent snarled, sounding remarkably like the animal in question.

"Settle, you two." Catherine chided, glaring at her friend. Tess grinned back.

"He's here!" Vincent announced, bounding from the room, surprising Tess who jumped in shock and spilt her drink.

"How the shit does he do that!?" She exclaimed, getting up and swiping at the stains on her jeans.

Catherine laughed, detaching her son and tucking herself away while balancing William on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go see what the boys are doing."

Together, the two woman walked to the front door and out onto the covered porch. In the driveway, J.T was just getting out of his much-traveled camper van, Vincent almost bouncing in his excitement to see his best friend. Impatiently, Vincent almost dragged J.T into a close hug, the shorter man only hesitating a moment before hugging back just as fiercely.

The two women remained silent, Catherine feeling a small tear snake down her cheek. Tess noticed and whispered, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I just so happy our family is back together again."

The two men pulled apart, Vincent grinning broadly, J.T looking a little nervous.

"Hey, big guy, you have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Vincent sensed his friend unease and gave him a quizzical look.

"You're nervous, why?"

J.T tried to summon a smile, but it failed. "I don't know, maybe because I couldn't protect Catherine or your son, because I wasn't there when they were taken. Because you gave them into my care and I dropped the fucking ball." He hung his head with all the appearance of a victim awaiting summary judgement.

Vincent glanced up at the porch, Catherine making shooing motions for him to do something. Grimacing, Vincent turned back to his friend.

"J.T you are the only person I would give my future wife and son to, to look after and care for. You're my best friend, you've cared for me for years, there's no one I'd rather have at my back."

J.T continued to stare at his feet. "You're just saying that. I'm a terrible friend."

Vincent let out a deep sigh. "J.T, you are an idiot. Who else would I trust to deliver my child, take care of my lover and keep me safe for over a decade? You and Catherine, and Tess, are the only ones I can trust, the only ones who know the whole truth about me and what was done to me. There is nothing you could have done to prevent the men that took Catherine and William, even if you'd been there with them. They would have taken you, or knocked you out and left you behind. They were professionals. You've given up large chunks of your life for me, for Catherine, you have nothing to feel guilty about."

J.T lifted his head. "You forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive. We're all looking at a whole new life, and who else am I going to ask to be my best man, if not you?"

J.T stared at him, looking taken aback. "Best man?"

"That's usually what you need when you're getting married?"

"Married?" J.T echoed, his mouth hanging open.

"Yeah. To Catherine, mother of my child, love of my life?"

J.T snapped his mouth shut, then smiled broadly. It was like seeing the sun rise in the morning. "You're getting married!" J.T grabbed Vincent's hand and started to pump it up and down. "You're getting married and you want me to be the best man?"

"Yeah. That okay?"

J.T continued to shake Vincent's hand. "Fine with me. When?"

Vincent pulled his abused hand back. "We were only waiting for you to arrive to set a date. We good now?"

J.T grinned even more widely. "Fan-fuckin'-tastic."

J.T tried to go through his humble routine with Catherine, begging her forgiveness for not being there but she waved him off and thrust William into his arms to distract him. William didn't take kindly to being handed off so suddenly and burst into noisy yowls. Catherine literally left J.T holding the baby while she went down the steps to join Vincent who was starting to unload bags from the camper.

Tess leant her hip against the bannister rail and smirked at J.T.

"You're a natural."

J.T, who was juggling William in an attempt to stop him crying sent her a death glare which set Tess giggling unrepentantly. William finally recognised something about the person holding him and stopped his howls, staring seriously at J.T for a second before breaking out into a sunny smile and gurgling.

"See, told you, you're a natural."

"Nice to see you too, Officer Vargas." J.T replied stiffly.

"Tess. Not an officer any more. Nice to see you in once piece, T.J. You did a good job out there."

"It's J.T." He forced through gritted teeth. Tess always had the ability to set his back up.

"Whatever. So what do you think about those two getting hitched?"

"What do I think? I think it's long over due." He gave Tess a considering look. "Don't you like the idea?"

"I love it. Ever since those two got together there's been nobody else, for either of them. Now everything is settled, it's natural they want to put a seal on it." Tess shrugged. "I'm just jealous 'cos I've yet to find my mister right. They've all been mister-okay-for-a-little-bit-then-I'm-off. Or else mister-I'm-sorry-but-I-have-a-wife. Commitment phobe's the lot of them."

J.T looked over at Catherine and Vincent laughing over something, both of them looking at each other with such love in their eyes it made his own eye's sting and his heart ache.

"Yeah, know how that feels."

Tess gave him a look, as if reassessing all her previous preconceptions. "You're okay, J.T."

He looked at Tess with a startled expression. "Thanks. I think."

"Don't get too excited. Doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping your bones any time soon!"

"Wait until you're invited!" J.T shot back, this time Tess looking surprised at the riposte.

They both turned away from each other at the same time, both looking taken aback by the others response. William decided he was being ignored long enough and grabbed a handful of J.T hair in his chubby hands and yanked, delighting in J.T's yelp and laughing while Tess tried to extract the hair from between his fingers.

Catherine watched the unequal struggle and turned back to Vincent, giggling. "I think William is playing matchmaker."

Vincent looked over at the porch and shook his head. "J.T and Tess? Never gonna happen. They'd never stop bickering long enough to get into bed."

Catherine gave him an arch look in reply. Vincent just grinned at her and went back to emptying out her belongings from the camper.

(authors note: been having way too much fun in this scenario. Hope this chapter answers a few fan questions. Not the end, yet, but close to it. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I had fun writing it. Cheers for now.)


	23. Chapter 23

J.T proved he hadn't lost his touch and produced the necessary paperwork for Vincent and Catherine to apply for a marriage certificate, as well as register Williams' birth. A date was set and the days leading up were spent on fittings for wedding clothes and last minute arrangements.

The house was a hive of activity, the ceremonies both taking place in their own back yard, the weather cooperating and producing dry sunny days, the forecast favourable for the weekend. Tess was taking on the task of creating a suitable setting, with J.T's help, while the others planned the catering for their small event. There was a very competent baker in downtown Glens falls, and they were putting together a creation to mark both occasions, Vincent having sole charge of that task while Catherine arranged the wedding breakfast. If it all seemed excessive for a party of four adults and a not-quite-one year old, and plus the celebrant and his assistant, no one was prepared to make a comment.

Catherine opened the closet and stared at the black dress bag hanging up, hiding its contents. Tess had spotted the boutique in a side street, the two women with William in a pushchair walked the short distance and peered at the window display.

"I could see you in that," Tess observed, pointing to the dress taking Catherine's attention.

"It is lovely. Do I dare?"

"At least try it on." Tess pushed. "Let me take William around the block while you go in and see what it looks like."

Catherine bit her lip and turned sparkling eyes on her friend. "Okay, I'll do it. See you back here in a bit."

Now that dress was waiting for her to wear it, along with the shoes and the pieces of costume jewellery tucked away at the bottom of her underwear drawer. Looking over her shoulder she checked no one was coming before lowering the zip to reveal the dress inside, her fingers stroking over the delicate lace and silky fabric. Pulling the zip up she closed the dress bag and smiled to herself. One more day and she'd be wearing it.

"You nervous, J.T?" Tess asked, watching as he frowned in concentration over the lap top. He looked up and squinted myopically at Tess for a moment before returning to his keyboard.

"Why would I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Being the best man and all, handling the stag night, doing the speeches..."

J.T looked up again. "Firstly, being the best man is hardly a stretch. I stand beside Vincent, hand him the ring and it's done. Secondly, what stag night? And thirdly, what speeches? It's not like there's going to be anyone there except us."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Firstly have you got the rings safe somewhere? Secondly, of course you have to take the big guy out on the town, even if just to see a movie or something. Thirdly, there will be others there, and you will be required to make a speech."

J.T gave up on what he was doing and swiveled in his dining chair to better face Tess on the couch.

"Firstly, Vincent doesn't drink, so no bar hopping," he counted off his fingers. "Secondly, yes, I have the rings safe, thank you for asking, and thirdly..." he paused and scowled, having lost the thread of his reply.

"The speeches?" Tess prompted.

"Yes, the speeches. I'm a college professor, I can do a speech easy. Anything else?"

Tess flung up a hand dismissively and turned her back on him. "Nope. You've got it covered."

J.T pulled a face at the back of Tess's head before turning back to his lap top. Without letting on, he googled wedding speeches and started to copy-paste a few ideas into an open document.

Vincent sat on the steps of the back porch and stared out at the trees forming the backdrop to the house. Most were starting to turn colour, some to yellow others to shades of red and orange. Sun poured into the expanse of grass that stretched between the house and the treeline, highlighting the swags of shimmering material suspended from a metal arch that would serve as the wedding bower where he and Catherine would exchange their vows. Flowers were due on the day to add the finishing touch, as well as the requisite bouquets for the women and button-hole sprays for the men. He glanced up at the sky and wondered if anyone was bothering to check up on him and Catherine any more. He had a sneaking suspicion that Evan might check in occasionally, at least until he found someone else to give his heart to. One of the first things J.T did after he arrived was to search the house and grounds for any indication of cameras or listening devices, the sweep coming up clean despite his friend doing it twice, just to be sure. Vincent hadn't told him that he'd already done the job, removing several devices and taking to them with a hammer for good measure.

Footsteps on the wooden decking announced the arrival of Catherine, who sat down on the step beside him and lay her head on his shoulder. She let out a small sigh.

"J.T and Tess are sniping at each other again."

Vincent smiled. "What about this time?"

"Wedding stuff. Was I wrong to hope that you best friend and my best friend might just get along?"

Vincent chuckled. "They are getting along, in their own way. Tess needs someone to tease, and J.T needs someone to talk back to. It's what they both do best."

Catherine lifted her head and looked at his profile. "When did you get so all knowing?"

"Since having to listen to those two bicker like teenagers for the last couple of weeks. I feel like we inherited two stepchildren when they moved in."

It was Catherine's turn to giggle. "You're so right. We'll miss them when they go."

"I wouldn't be all that sure they will." Vincent retorted. Catherine gave him a shove.

"What do you know that I don't?"

"J.T hasn't anywhere else to go at the moment. No job, nowhere to live. He's been talking about looking for work in Glens Falls or nearby. I caught him looking up the State University of New York in Queensbury for positions, which is only a couple of miles from here."

"It would be lovely if Tess could find something nearby. She'll probably be dying to get back to New York."

"Are you?" Vincent asked.

"Am I what?"

"Dying to go back to New York?"

Catherine shook her head. "Not a bit. I'm sure we'll visit from time to time to catch a show, or just whatever, but I want somewhere less violent for our son to grow up in."

"Hmmmm." Vincent agreed, lacing his fingers with hers.

They sat together, quietly, peacefully, listening to the birds and the breeze in the trees, enjoying the sunshine, a moment out of time before the excitement of the next few hours crowded in on them.

Later that afternoon J.T put forward his proposal to take Vincent out for the evening, to sample the night-life of Glens Falls, while the others enjoyed a pre-wedding girls-only night. Tess had hired a karaoke machine and disco lights, while J.T had scoped out a couple of places for him and Vincent to visit.

Catherine and Vincent waved goodbye to each other before their respective best friends dragged them into the house and SUV, depending on who they were.

Tess broke open a bottle of wine immediately and poured her friend a liberal glassful. Catherine had tried to think of everything, and had a couple of bottle of expressed milk prepared for William in case the night got messy, which she hoped it would to some degree. She sat and drank while Tess set up the lights and karaoke equipment, helping when Tess started to push the furniture back to clear a space for dancing.

Vincent slanted a glance at his friend.

"You want to fill me in on what you have planned for tonight?"

J.T shook his head.

"You know I don't drink."

"I know."

They traveled in silence for a while, Vincent staring out the window, noting they were going south, heading for Saratoga Springs.

"We going to the racecourse?" Vincent asked at length as they pulled into the outskirts of the city.

"Nope."

J.T drove in to the center of Saratoga Spring and pulled into a car-park. The billboard outside the club advertised a Rolling Stones tribute group playing that night.

"The Stones?" Vincent queried as they got out of the SUV.

"The Stones!" J.T confirmed, spreading his hands wide. "Not the real Rolling Stones, but the best I could do on short notice."

"Nice, J.T." Vincent grinned, slapping his best man on the shoulder before shrugging into his jacket.

The place was already jumping with a warm up band when they entered, the two men making their way through the throng to the crowded bar. J.T ordered a drink for himself and one for Vincent, handing over something for Vincent to nurse in a red plastic cup bearing the club logo. They fought their way to a vantage point and watched the throbbing crowd of bodies bopping to the music. Strobes and coloured spot lights swept over the heads and waving arms making patterns on the ceiling and walls, flashing in time with the music.

"They're good!" J.T yelled at Vincent, chugging his drink and indicating he was going for another. Vincent waved him away grinning when J.T found himself involved in a dance between two women as he fought his way through the happy crowd.

"Hey handsome, wanna dance with me?" Vincent looked down into the laughing face of a leggy blond, heavily made up, her eyes sparkling in the uncertain light.

"Sorry, not dancing tonight. Just here to enjoy the music." Vincent had to put his mouth close to her ear to make himself heard, the girl taking advantage and looping her arms about his neck. He pulled himself free, still smiling. At the same instant a heavily sweating young man elbowed his way through the crowd.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Carrie?" The young man yelled, grabbing the young woman's arm and pulling her off Vincent.

"Let go, Dean, you don't own me." Pulling her arm away, she stumbled against Vincent, who put a hand out to steady her. The young man bared his teeth in a jealous fury, and Vincent let a sliver of the beast free of its chains, his eyes glowing briefly gold as he bared his own teeth at the young man and growled. The young man checked, stared at Vincent for a moment then took a step back, blinking owlishly.

"No offense, man."

"None taken," Vincent replied. Pushing the young woman towards him. Vincent watched the couple disappear into the mêlée on the dance floor, the young man casting a glance back at Vincent before towing his partner out of sight.

"Idiot." Vincent muttered under his breath, glad to see J.T appear out of the seething mass of bodies, two red cups clutched in his hands. The local band was finishing its set, the crowd howling its approval and applauding loudly. While they waited for the main event, Vincent and J.T moved from their spot against the wall, circling the edge of the restless crowd for a clearer view of the stage. A spotlight shone on the central microphone and the club manager appeared, waving for the audience to settle down so he could speak. He announced the headline act and the audience went wild.

For the next two hours the tribute band belted out hit after hit of the Rolling Stones to an appreciative crowd who mostly sang along to the lyrics, and screamed for an encore when the gig ended. Vincent and J.T whistled and applauded along with the rest, having enjoyed the show, J.T swaying from the number of beers he'd imbibed.

"Fuckin' brilliant." J.T slurred, waving an empty cup at the stage. "Absloloot...asboloot...fuckin' classics, every one."

Vincent hooked a hand under J.T's armpits and hauled him upright. "Come on, you've had enough. Let's go home."

J.T waved a hand wildly about. "No...No...early yet...ish your stag do..."

"And you are so going to regret those beers in the morning." Vincent grinned and continued out of the night club and across to the car park, digging the keys out of J.T's jacket pocket. He bundled his friend into the passenger seat, belting him in before getting in the driver's side.

"If you're going to chuck let me know, I'll stop the car."

Catherine waggled her toes, purple foam spreaders keeping them apart so she couldn't smudge the nail varnish. She screwed her nose up at the colour, slanting a look over at Tess.

"I don't know. This colour is a little...out there."

"Neon is the new brown. You know what they say..."

"No. Enlighten me."

"Something old, something new, something borrowed..." Tess chanted.

"And something blue, that glows in the dark." Catherine finished. "Not sure this is what they had in mind."

"So we have blue covered. What about the others?" Tess paddled her own feet with their accompanying toe spreaders, her nails painted a bright, flourescent pink.

"Well, something old is my Claddagh ring. It was a twenty-first present from Dad. Something new is my dress, but I still have to sort out something borrowed."

Tess flapped her hand. "Got that sorted. My diamond earings. I know you like them, I've seen you giving them the look."

Catherine pulled a shocked face. "I have not given them a second glance...but I won't say no."

"Knew you wouldn't. 'Nother drinky?" Tess waved a mostly empty bottled back and forth.

"Not for me, I reached my limit hours ago."

"Party pooper." Tess grumbled, emptying the dregs into her own glass and letting the empty bottle drop to the floor. Catherine shook her head at her friend and leant down to check her toes before carefully peeling the toe spreaders away. She heard a sound outside and lifted her head.

"Boys are home." Padding barefoot across the floor she opened the front door to the sound of retching from the driveway. Vincent appeared on the front porch and gave her a crooked grin.

"J.T got a little carried away. He'll be in...shortly." He leant forward to kiss her and glanced downward, his eyebrows rising. "Blue nail polish?"

Catherine grinned, finishing his interrupted movement and leaning up on tip-toe to give him a kiss.

"Something blue, remember?"

"Huh. Works for me."

Horrible sounds were still coming from the driveway, Catherine wincing in sympathy.

"Poor J.T. He's so going to regret that tomorrow. Where did you end up? Strip club? Casino?" she teased.

"Rolling stones tribute band in Saratoga Springs."

"I'm jealous. Were they any good?"

"Actually pretty good..." another bout of gut-wrenching noises interrupted them, Vincent glancing over his shoulder at his best-man. "Um...I'd better go and clean up J.T. Before I get him into his bed."

"Okay..."Catherine glanced over at her bridesmaid, Tess attempting to reach the stair on all fours, a collar of brightly coloured paper streamers wrapped around her neck and head. Vincent leant to the side to peer at Tess's backside weaving from side to side.

"Yeah. Looks like you'll have your hands full as well. I'll see you later." Vincent leant down and they had another quick kiss before they parted to take care of their respective friends.

Catherine got Tess into the bed in the spare room, not bothering with getting her into her night-clothes, but took off her jeans and covered her with the blankets. Tess grumbled and tried to throw them off.

"Not tired," she slurred, her eyes already shut. Catherine bent down and kissed her best friend on the cheek.

"Sleep it off. Tomorrow is the big day and I need my best friend."

"m'kay," Tess mumbled, waving a languid hand in Catherine's general direction.

Shaking her head, Catherine left the room, switching off the light and shutting the door.

Vincent easily picked up J.T and lay him on the bed inside the camper. After removing his friends glasses and covering him with an Indian blanket, Vincent waited until he heard J.T give a trademark deep snore before closing the sliding door to the camper and leaving him to sleep it off.

"Thank's for the great night, J.T." Patting the side of the van he climbed the steps to the porch and opened the front door. He paused and looked back, hearing the faint chainsaw rasp issuing from the camper and smiled, before turning back to enter the house, closing the door behind him.

Catherine was sitting cross-legged on their bed feeding William. Despite their best efforts William had proved to be a three hourly baby, his daytime naps and feeds still regular despite them starting to add a few solids to his menu. Catherine had been lucky and had few complications with breast feeding after surviving the first month, and by taking regular naps and taking turns with the changing, bathing, playing routine they had both survived the inevitable sleep deprivation suffered by all new parents.

"Won't be long, he's half way back to sleep already." Catherine reported. "J.T okay?"

"Sleeping like a bear. I'd say a baby, but babies don't make the noise that J.T is making right now."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Catherine watched as Vincent got ready for bed, never tiring of seeing him strip down to skin then pull on some loose pants and an old sleeveless tee for bed, largely in deference to their current house guests. Catherine wore a brushed cotton plaid shirt that on her nearly reached her knees, her hair tied up in a loose knot while she took care of William. He was now fast asleep, his darling mouth pursed in a baby moue, eyes tight shut, as Catherine positioned him on her shoulder and rubbed his back slowly.

"Want me to put him to bed?" Vincent offered.

"Sure, just make sure he brings something up or he'll be roaring loud enough to wake J.T in twenty minutes."

"No problem. Come to daddy, little man." Vincent handled the transition smoothly and started a slow, swaying walk towards the nursery next door to their room, Catherine watched his progress with a fond smile on her face before turning back to the bed and climbing under the covers.

Vincent's return woke her up from a light doze.

"Hey."

"Hey," Vincent replied, leaning over her and pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "You asleep?"

"I was thinking about it."

"You all set for tomorrow?"

Catherine sighed. "I am. I'm not sure about the others, but we agreed to leave things in their hands, so I'm not going to worry about it and just concentrate on us."

"Good plan. Have I told you today that I love you?"

Catherine smiled despite her eyes being tightly closed. "I never tire of you telling me, whatever the time of day."

"That's okay then, because I plan to tell you at least once a day for the rest of our lives."

Catherine opened her eyes and looked up at him, the gaze slumberous but glowing with love. "I think I can live with that."

His lips met hers in a sweet kiss. Vincent drew back before it could become more. Catherine let out a mew of disappointment.

"Why did you stop?"

"Because if I don't, we're not going to get any sleep and you have to be all dewy soft and rested for our wedding photo's tomorrow."

Catherine's eyes opened wide. "Dewy soft? Where the hell did you hear that?"

Vincent grinned. "The photographer called to remind us to get our beauty sleep for the big day."

"He did?" she looped her arms about his neck to pull him closer, their lips almost touching. "Then he's going to have to settle for the look of a woman well satisfied instead."

"No dewy soft?" Vincent teased, nuzzling her cheek.

"I prefer hard and velvety," Catherine purred, burrowing under the waistband of his pants to wrap her hand around him. Vincent drew in a sudden breath, his eyes taking on a fiery glow.

"Huh. A girl who knows what she wants." Growling he swooped down and covered her mouth with his own, the room quickly filling with the sounds of sighs and moans and the rustle of discarded clothes hitting the floor.

As forecasted the day dawned fine and dry, Catherine holding William and standing looking out of the master bedroom bay window to watch the people coming and going below. Occasionally she would see J.T or Tess directing traffic or talking to the people, a surprising number of which appeared not to be leaving, the driveway filling up with cars and small vans. One of them was a nanny to take care of William during the actual wedding ceremony to free up the happy couple. Catherine had already expressed milk so that William would be taken care of. A knock at the door announced the woman's arrival and Catherine turned to greet her.

"Hello, you must be Sam?"

The woman smiled and walked forward. "Samantha Carter, and this is William?" She reached out for the baby, who regarded her with a cautious smile. "Hello, William?"

Catherine handed him over with some trepidation, but he was quickly smiling and chortling at the new face, much to Catherine's relief.

"His room is just next door, everything's set up for you and there's some bottles if he gets hungry in the fridge downstairs."

"We'll go and get acquainted then. He's a bonny boy, Ms. Chandler."

"Catherine, please. Any problems just come and find Vincent or myself, okay?"

"Don't you worry, we'll be just fine, won't we, William?" Giving Catherine a reassuring smile, Sam walked slowly out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Starting to feel nervous, Catherine went back to her vigil at the window. A van had drawn up and was disgorging a shops worth of flowers, the florist and her assistant hidden by the quantity of blooms ordered.

The door to the bedroom burst open and Tess appeared. "Hair dresser's here." she announced breathlessly.

"Everything going okay?" Catherine asked. "Downstairs, I mean. Anything you need me to do?"

Tess shook her head. "You just have to turn up on time looking gorgeous. Every thing is going fine."

"Okay, if you're sure?"

At that moment several people pushed past Tess to enter the room.

"Is this the bride?" the man leading the small army asked, glancing around the room before fixing his kohl lined eyes on Catherine.

"I'm...er.. Catherine."

Tess grinned and waved at her. "I'll leave you all to it." and quickly shut the door behind her.

Catherine faced the slim man currently giving her the once over. Before she could open her mouth he flicked up a finger to forestall her.

"Show me the dress. I can do nothing until I see the dress."

Catherine went to the wardrobe and lifted out the dress bag, slowly lowering the zip to reveal the creation inside. Almost at once it was whipped out of her hands and fluttered around the room to come to rest hanging from the curtain rail while the hairdresser and his two attendants surveyed the dress. One of the attendants had a notebook open and took down any comments made by his boss. At length, after a sotto-voce discussion the book was shut and all three turned to face Catherine.

"You have showered already?" he asked. Catherine nodded. "Good, then we can begin. I am Cyrano, and these are my two assistants, Bella and Guy. We are going to perform magic, so sit back and leave us to do everything."

Vincent sat on the back porch and watched the controlled chaos around him resolve itself into a beautiful dressed, fairytale setting for a wedding. Flowers had transformed the swags of material and a small stage had been set up for a trio of musicians who even now were playing some warm up pieces. He had met the caterer and seen the cakes to mark the occasion, and also seen the quantity of food that was being laid on for what was going to be a very small wedding breakfast. He felt decidedly out of place, a fifth wheel while J.T and Tess buzzed about and organised everything. He knew that Catherine was being attended by a local hair and make-up artist, while he was told to just sit and relax before it was time to climb into his tux. The florist and her assistant was dressing the house, while the photographer and his assistant, carrying a large, round light reflector roamed about taking carefully staged snapshots of the goings-on. In a few minutes the celebrant would arrive and he would need to go get changed and ready for his wedding. After the marriage ceremony they would have Williams naming service, then it would be time for the photographs before they sat down to eat. A tray appeared before his eyes and a waiter presented him with several tall champagne flutes.

"Drink, sir?"

Vincent smiled grimly. "I don't drink."

"Oh, these aren't alcoholic, sir. Try one."

Vincent lifted one of the chilled glasses off the silver tray and took a sip. It looked like champagne, had bubbles like champagne, but tasted of crisp, light, exotic fruit. "That's delicious! Thank you."

"You're welcome." The waiter, barely more than a teenager, smiled at Vincent then walked off, offering a drink to the florist and her assistant, who also exclaimed in delight when they tasted the nectar.

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and he flinched, then looked up.

"Time to get ready, big guy. The celebrant has just arrived and will want to talk to you."

"Thanks, J.T. I'll go and get ready now." Vincent rose to his feet, only now noticing the J.T was already dressed in his tux and looking very smart for someone who that morning had looked like something the cat dragged in. "You look good in a tux."

"I do. Now get a move on, or you'll miss your own wedding. You sure don't want to leave Catherine waiting for you." J.T tapped his watch and tried to look fierce. Vincent laughed and moved off, depositing his glass on a side table, where it was quickly snatched up and whisked away to the kitchen by an attentive waiter.

Catherine smoothed nervous hands down the front of her dress and stared at her reflection in the full length mirror provided by Cyrano.  
"Perfect," he breathed, his hands clasped together and resting against his mouth. Both his assistants stood to one side, faces wreathed in smiles at their joint success. Not that the source material had needed much embellishment, but with light touches and an expert eye Catherine was every girls dreams of a bride, from the top of her glossy, up-swept hair crowned with a glittering decoration, to the peep of blue nail polish through the open toes of her satin courts. She turned and sunlight caught the sparkle of crystals scattered across the spread of her ivory skirts, the pleated bodice embellished with more glittering beading. A flutter of delicate silk ribbons hung from the center line of the empire-line bodice, held by a diamond brooch, to trail in a fluted whisper down almost to the floor, even the faintest breeze sending them lifting and moving. A similar cluster created a lighter than air train at the back, kissing the ground and trailing behind. Attached to the glittering hair piece was a gossamer veil the fanned out and reached the top of her bodice at the back, the edge a delight of ivory embroidery with random diamonds spangling the net.

One of the attendants stepped forward and handed her a bouquet of flowers, the white roses carrying a faint blush of pink. Catherine held them up to her nose and inhaled their fresh scent.

The door to the bedroom opened and Tess appeared, dressed in a slinky, midnight blue floor length dress that hugged her slender curves, the hem and bodice encrusted with crystal beading. Flowers decorated her hair and long chandelier earings swung from her lobes and highlighted her long neck.

"You look fabulous!" said Catherine.

"You look beautiful" said Tess at the same time. She handed Catherine a small jewel box containing the promised diamond earings.

"You both look ready for a wedding!" Cyrano clapped his hands together, his attendants fussing for the last time around Catherine before standing back.

Catherine turned to Cyrano. "Thank you. You'll stay and see the ceremony?"

Cyrano turned to his two attendants who looked hopeful. "Alright, you twisted my arm." He shooed his smiling assistants out of the room. Catherine drew in a deep breath, feeling nerves starting to take hold.

"Ready?" Tess asked, her eyes moist.

"Don't you start, I don't want to ruin my makeup."

Together they left the bedroom, making their way down the stairs, the strains of music reaching them from the back yard. Catherine paused to collect herself and see the decorated rooms awash with more flowers and platters of food on tables groaning under the weight, the cake taking centre stage.

While she looked her fill, Tess went on ahead and to the opened French doors leading to the back deck. There seemed to be plenty of people outside which surprised her, but her attention was taken by the photographer's camera clicking repeatedly as he captured her last few moments of single life.

Ignoring him, she started to walk, her bouquet clutched in her shaking hands, fighting back her nerves and incipient tears as she approached the doorway.

"Catherine?" A deep voice halted her progress, her eyes opening wide as a man stepped forward.

"Dad?"

Thomas Chandler smiled broadly and held out his hand. "I couldn't let my lovely girl walk down the aisle without me, could I?" Crooking his elbow he waited for her slowly place her hand on the arm of his tuxedo, her fingers smoothing over the fabric.

"How?" Catherine asked, unable to tear her eyes aware from his face, as if expecting him to disappear if she blinked.

"You have some powerful friends, Catherine. Let's just say they made me an offer I couldn't refuse." He gave her a raised eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. "And what father wants to miss his daughter's wedding?"

As if only now brought back to the present, Catherine shot a quick look out beyond the French doors, the musicians still producing a steady stream of soothing music while they waited for a signal of the brides approach.

Thomas bent his head and kissed his daughters cheek. "You look beautiful. Your mother would have been so proud."

Catherine fought hard not to burst in to tears, her heart so full it raced in her chest, wanting to break free. A wail from her son held securely in the arms of the nanny recalled her to the people waiting for her to appear, especially the tall man with dark hair and broad shoulders standing near the celebrant.

"Shall we?" Thomas asked and Catherine nodded, her smile tremulous.

Together they stepped out into the sunshine, the swell of music rising to greet them.

Vincent shifted restlessly, the celebrant giving him a sympathetic glance as they waited for Catherine to appear. He heard J.T suck in a sudden breath and turned to look back at the house. A vision was floating towards him, her hand tucked into the crook of a man's elbow, but he hardly registered who it was, his eyes fixed on the woman walking towards him.

"My, God she's beautiful," he breathed, his heart kicking up a beat as he turned fully, his eyes never leaving hers. Everything around him disappeared until there was only her, the man walking with her taking the hand on his arm and giving it into Vincent's. As soon as their fingers touched, reality rocked back in to place and the musician ended their last chord, the note lingering as Catherine laced her fingers with his and stood at his side, handing her bouquet to Tess.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from looking at her, Catherine similarly afflicted, the pair of them so absorbed that the celebrant had to discretely cough twice to gain their attention.

"Friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of these two people, Catherine and Vincent, in matrimony, in celebration of their deep and abiding love for each other, and as a commitment to each other for the rest of their days."

Vincent dutifully answered the questions and listened to the words, but his mind was full of the rapid beat of Catherine's heart, the pulse of her blood and the intoxicating scent of her filling his senses. J.T had to nudge him when it came time to exchange the rings, both of them having to let go of the other to slid on the platinum and diamond matching wedding bands. At last he heard the magic words that sealed their bond.

"You may kiss your bride!" the celebrant announced.

Hearing him give a low growl that reverberated down her spine, Catherine lifted her face and welcomed Vincent's kiss, her arms lifting to encircle his neck while he plundered her mouth, sealing his mark on her as clearly as a brand, her response no less passionate, her body melting against his in a close embrace that left no space between them.

Applause and whoops finally broke them apart to the realisation that they were not alone and a shower of rice and petals forced them to remember they still had more to do. After a brief lull where they signed the necessary paperwork, with Tess and J.T as witnesses, the celebrant announced their new status to all and sundry.

"Ladies and gentleman may I present to you our newlyweds – Mr. and Mrs Keller.!"

The musicians played their instruments with a will, everyone wanting to congratulate the happy, if flushed, couple, J.T thumping Vincent on the back while Tess hugged Catherine, before throwing herself at Vincent and kissing him soundly.

"Congratulations, Big guy!" Tess laughed, letting him go before repeating the gesture on J.T, much to his surprise, the pair of them taking a little longer to part, something that took them both aback.

Vincent finally noticed that Catherine's stepfather had been the man who'd walked her down the aisle, Brooke and Heather standing nearby, waiting for their turn to congratulate the newly married couple. They approached, Thomas shaking Vincent's hand while Brooke and Heather hugged Catherine and exclaimed over her appearance and William, who happily sat in the nanny's arms and accepted his due as cutest baby at the ceremony.

Now it was time for the second part of the ceremony – Williams' naming. Sam handed William over to Vincent, his son wearing a miniature version of his father's suit, the pair of them too adorable for words. With Catherine at his side, they once more faced the celebrant who spoke briefly.

"Catherine and Vincent bring this child here to declare before this gathering their joy on his birth , which I am told, was fraught with danger and uncertainty but was, for all that, much anticipated and cherished. Further more it is their wish that you all share in that joy. May I introduce to you all Catherine and Vincent's son; William James Chandler Keller. May he always know the love and guiding hand of his parents, the good will and support of their friends and the joy and affection of his extended family for the rest of his days."

Vincent and Catherine embraced, their son between them and faced the people watching who all applauded and cheered, William waving his hands and laughing in delight at all the attention.

Tess glanced over a J.T to see him wipe away moisture from his eyes.

"Are you crying?"

"No. Just some dust..." J.T sniffed, pinching his nose. Tess took pity on him and passed a tissue she had stuffed down the bodice of her gown – just in case.

"Here. Don't want you dripping snot all over that spiffy tux."

J.T took the proffered tissue and mumbled his thanks. He glanced up at her. "You like the tux?"

Tess glanced sideways at him, an eyebrow rising and a smile curving her lips.

"Very 'James Bond'."

J.T tucked the tissue into his pocket and adjusted his glasses. "Can I get you a drink...or something?"

Tess grinned and threaded her arm through his. "I know where Cat hid the beer."

J.T's face instantly lightened. "Lead on."

The photographer had finally managed to prize Vincent and Catherine away from the people wanting to congratulate them long enough to take some photos together, then with their son. When it came to the group photos it became a great deal less formal with everyone there, from the florist to the caterer getting in on the act and being immortalised in the Keller wedding photo collection.

At last they were able to troop inside and partake of the wedding feast, with many toasts to the happy couple and lots of laughter. Eventually the afternoon wound down and all those not family or immediate friends drifted away knowing they had been invited to take part in a very special occasion.

The nanny was the only one to remain, taking care of William for the evening to free up Catherine and Vincent to enjoy spending time with their newly discovered family, the hours passing as tales flew, of their lives over the past year until it was time to say goodbye. Thomas hugged Catherine close and wished her every happiness, reminder her they would be visiting the next day as they were in town for the next week, giving them ample time to spend together and spend time with William.

Vincent and Catherine waved them goodbye from the front porch then turned to enter their lounge. J.T was snoring on the couch, his head in Tess's lap.

"He found the beer, didn't he?" Vincent asked. "It always sends him to sleep when he's had four or more."

Tess shrugged. "Sorry."

Catherine was standing beside the remains of the wedding food, the cake well ravaged by the appreciative guests. Vincent came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist.

"It was a lovely cake," Catherine sighed, picking off one of the sugar butterflies and nibbling it.

"Not as lovely as my new wife," Vincent whispered, his lips tickling her ear lobe.

"Or as tasty as my new husband," Catherine whispered back, her hand coming up to stroke his head as he nuzzled at her neck.

"Maybe we should go and celebrate our new status." Vincent grinned against her neck and nipped the satin skin, making his wife squeal.

J.T snorted awake and fell off the couch, staring around the room blearily. "Where'd everyone go?"

Tess stood up and brushed off her skirts. "I'm going to get changed then hit the town and see what's on offer. You coming, T.J?"

"Yeah, sure...okay." J.T replied with alacrity, adjusting his glasses. "Meet you outside...m'kay?"

As he passed the happy couple he gave Catherine a quick peck on the cheek, then surprised Vincent by giving him one too. "See you tomorrow, guys. Lovely wedding." Then he staggered off out the front door.

Catherine and Vincent grabbed a couple of glasses of the bubbly nectar and went to sit on the abandoned couch, settling down just as Tess clattered down the stair, dressed for clubbing complete with sequined mini skirt and stilettos.

"See you guys, don't wait up!" and she was gone, the door banging shut behind her.

"I didn't know we had a teenager in the house. Should we have set a curfew?" Catherine queried, settling comfortably against Vincent broad chest, his arm warmly wrapped about her shoulders.

They sat there together gazing at the fire until it burned down to embers, the house falling silent except for the hiss and spark of the logs settling in the grate. Vincent finally stirred.

"Time I took you to bed, wife."

Catherine twisted around, looking up at him. "That sound like a best idea I've heard all night, husband." She sat up to allow Vincent to get off the couch. He stripped off his jacket and tie, leaving his shirt unbuttoned, his face and form cast into shadow with the dying fire behind him. Like some romantic prince of darkness he bent down and lifted Catherine into his arms, her arms going around his neck as he hefted her tightly in his grip and carried her towards the stairs.

"Vincent?" Catherine queried softly.

"Quiet, wife, I'm carrying you across the threshold."

"Oh. Okay." she giggled and stroked his cheek as he easily climbed the stairs and carried her into their bedroom, the room cast in darkness. He set her on her feet and told her not to move.

As she watched, he lit one candle after another, the room filled with their soft glow and scented with the swathes of flowers decorating every corner. Petals littered the carpet and the covers on the bed were already turned down ready for occupation.

Vincent blew out the taper after lighting the last candle, his face highlighted by the soft light, his eyes glowing in the shadows cast by the flames. Like a dark panther he prowled over to where she waited, her heart pattering in her chest in anticipation. He circled her, peeling off his shirt even as she lifted her arms to remove her veil and hair piece. While her arms were raised, Vincent found the hidden zip at the side of her dress and slowly lowered it, kissing the exposed skin until the dress dropped to the floor in a rustle of silk. At the same time Catherine released her hair so it fell to her shoulders, Vincent kissing his way up her spine, brushing her hair aside to kiss her nape.

"Vincent," Catherine breathed, her skin tingling, Vincent hands warm on her legs as he lifted her foot one after the other and took off her shoes, then her stockings, his lips following his hands, tracing patterns of kisses behind her knees making her quiver and shake. Before she could collapse completely he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down like the most delicate porcelain. With deliberate intent, Vincent stripped off the rest of his clothes and lay down beside her, Catherine lifting her arms to welcome him against her body. Together they entwined arms and legs, melding together with lips fused, tongues dancing in anticipation of the joining to come.

Catherine cried out when he entered her, his body hard against her softness, his lips worshiping her skin, teasing her breasts to aching peaks while she writhed and strained, matching her movements to his, drawing him deeply inside.

With the smell of flowers, the flickering light of the candles and the satin hardness of Vincent surrounding and inside her, Catherine arched and gasped her climax, her nails digging into his shoulders as she writhed beneath him.

Vincent bared his teeth, his eyes a glowing gold, feeling her body clasp him tightly, bringing him close until with a final lunge he buried himself deep and pulsated inside her, both of them panting heavily.

Vincent braced himself on his elbows and smoothed the tousled hair away from her flushed face in the aftermath, his lips feathering kisses over her closed eyes and arched brows.

"I'm so in love with you, Mrs. Keller."

Catherine smiled, her eyes slowly opening to stare up lovingly at him.

"I love you too, Mr. Keller."

They kissed softly, still melded together, indivisible, inseparable.

Sleep claimed them for a little while then they both rose and donned clothes to go visit their son. Together they stared down at their sleeping child, Catherine stroking the soft hair on her son's head, Vincent arm heavy around her waist.

"It's hard to believe we have a new future to look forward to. A future free of Muirfield, free of fear."

Vincent nuzzled her shoulder. "A future for our family. For us."

"I like the sound of that." Catherine purred, stroking the soft skin of her son's cheek.

After a few more moments they left the nursery, hand in hand, and returned to their bed, the house still silent around them. Catherine went around the room and extinguished the candles one by one before joining Vincent under the covers, his arms wrapping around her, drawing her against his body.

"How are you enjoying your future so far, wife?" Vincent rumbled against her shoulder.

"I'm loving it." Catherine replied, snuggling against him and smiled.

The end of Missing Pieces.

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented, your reviews were all appreciated and adored. Thank you also for your patience in waiting for this epic to be completed - I was sick this week otherwise this would have been finished a lot sooner. Roll on October and the second season of BatB.

hugs and appreciation Louise


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